Inferno's Touch by RavynFyre
by Rosen Kreuz Fiera
Summary: An Arsonist with a love of flame and a contempt for Firefighters shows rookie Heero Yuy and Engine 8 just how far he'll go cleanse the world. Fresh out of the academy, Heero joins Engine 8 Captain, Zechs Merquise, driver Duo Maxwell, and Medic 5 team Trowa Barton and Quatre Winner in the fight for life, love, and normalcy. AU, Yaoi 1 2 3x4 5x6
1. Prologue

Standard Disclaimer: I own neither the GW Fandom, Nor this piece of fiction. Please see my profile for more information.

Prologue

Look at what they were all doing with their lives. Children shooting children. Mayhem in the streets. Drugs on every corner. Hookers and whores at every turn. Murder and chaos no matter where you looked.

No one was doing anything about it. The cops just turned their heads and let it slide. The justice system let off those few that the cops actually bothered to bring in. The prisons were overcrowded, and outfitted with revolving doors at the main gates; you'd walk in, and then walk right back out in no time at all.

People were hiding in their own homes from the criminals and the thugs. The only ones that seemed to have a modicum of security and freedom were the murderers and thieves themselves.

No one seemed to care. There wasn't anything being done about it. There were no mythological white knights to ride along and punish the wicked. There were no superheroes to fly in and save the day. Hell, even the actual people who really did care, who really were trying to make a difference, were hard-pressed to keep themselves in one piece, let alone try and fix the mess the world was in.

There was too much wickedness and evil in the world. There was no justice anymore. Just yesterday, some boozed out coke hound plowed his car through a school playground and killed half a dozen kids. Thanks to his lawyer, he was already out on bond. What fucking judge thought that even giving that guy a bail hearing was a good idea?

Where was the justice? Where were the people trying to make a difference? No one seemed to care anymore. No one seemed to notice the blood flooding the streets. No one cared about the gangs running the children out of their own parks and off of their own play-sets. No one seemed to give a rat's ass about the mother's giving birth to babies, addicted to god knows what right out of the womb.

How many crack-heads could he see from the window of his car as it drove down the street? Even one was too many. How many knife-wounds, gunshots, and bullet holes would he end up being an unwilling witness to by the end of the day?

There. In the near distance, the sharp staccato report of a high caliber handgun. A rifle would have reverberated more, been deeper, and not so… vulgar. It was already too late to salvage this day. It had begun.

In more ways than one.

He watched in morbid fascination as the match clutched between his shaking fingers disintegrated slowly, the glowing orange flame eating its way inexorably down the wood until it just gently kissed his fingertips. He didn't even hiss in pain as he dropped the burning splinter. He only stepped back as it tumbled into a pungent, damp puddle.

The gentle WUMPH of the fire whispered in his ears. The flames leapt towards the ceiling, eating the oxygen, the wood, the cheap, cracked linoleum.

Too bad it wouldn't eat away the sorrow of the world. This one fire, no matter how far it spread, wouldn't be big enough to do that, though.

He watched the fire eat its way through the dilapidated crack house. The yellow gold of the flames licking at the walls, and the thick belches of smoke holding him immobile, transfixing him. The crackle of the beast as it devoured everything in its path sang in his ears, and tingled in his veins.

The screams awoke him to reality.

He kicked the empty can of gasoline deep into the flames, and retreated out the door into the darkened alley. He could still hear them all screaming, even out here. Too high and stoned to find their way out of the deathtrap, the drug addicts within shrieked their fear and pain to the heavens.

Just let the fire take them. Let the inferno cleanse them of their sins. Let the raging flames be his justice.

He smiled, his eyes wide and glazed with madness as he watched the ballet of flickering light through the barred windows. The smoke quickly obscured the heavenly fire, and carbon coated the glass in soot, cloaking the judgment taking place within.

He turned and fled down the dark alley, smiling in grim satisfaction as the screams died out behind him.

No one had cared about the state of the world. No one had given a damn about at what they were all doing with their lives. Children shooting children. Mayhem in the streets. Drugs on every corner. Hookers and whores at every turn. Murder and chaos no matter where you looked.

No one had cared to try and fix it.

Until now.

As the fire started to eat its way out of its prison, he smiled. He would bring the fire to cleanse the whole world. He would bring justice to them all.

Even if it meant burning the whole world to ash.


	2. Chapter 1

The alarm shrieked in the bedroom, grabbing Heero's attention. Snagging a towel, he stepped out of the shower and strode into the other room to shut off the annoying beep of his clock. Two hours. He had two hours before he had to report for duty on his first day at Engine 8. Well, actually, he had an hour and a half, since his Training Chief had warned him to try and be at least 20 minutes early to look over the rig and the equipment.

As he toweled himself dry, he wondered what Station 8 was like. He hadn't gotten a chance to stop by and see it between his Academy graduation the day before, and going on shift today.

Intellectually, he knew it was a two rig house; Engine 8 and Medic 6, a 750 gallon Telesquirt fire engine with a 75-foot aerial ladder, and a rescue rig styled ambulance respectively. He wasn't apprehensive about the engine, even though he'd never actually trained on a Telesquirt. Despite the fact that this engine had a 75 foot ladder, and a deluge gun capable of throwing over 1000 gallons of water per minute mounted at the tip of that ladder, it was still an engine. It was still just basically a huge toolbox and water pump on wheels. It just had a couple of extra tools that the average engine didn't have. Like that ladder for instance.

He wondered why he was fixating on the ladder. It wasn't as if heights bothered him in the least. When he got out of high school, he'd gone straight into the National Guard as a jet pilot. In fact, it was his military background that had helped him get one of the coveted slots on the firefighter training eligibility. He would have made it, even without his Guard experience, but the extra 5 points it gave him pushed him all the way to the top of the list. Otherwise, he would have had to have been in a lottery for the number one slot, since two other people scored perfect on their exams.

Back to the ladder. Must be something Freudian in that. He snorted at that thought. Yes, while it was true, he hadn't gotten any for far longer than he cared to think about, he refused to consider the thought of such a base physical desire clouding his thoughts like that. Of course if that were really true, toweling himself dry wouldn't be affecting him as much as it was.

Staring down as his body with a look of faint impatience, he sighed.

Mission one: deal with that.

Mission two: finish getting ready for work and get there on time.

Mission three: find an outlet to deal with all of this frustration.

Mission four: get that damned ladder out of his head!

"Mission accepted."

* * *

"Ohayo, Quatre!" the cheerful voice called.

Dropping his duffle, the blonde paramedic turned around, just in time to be glomped by Engine 8's Driver/Engineer, Duo Maxwell.

"Woof! Hi Duo. Umm… those were my ribs… Could you-"

"Oh. Heh. Sorry, Q-man. I-"

He was interrupted by the shrill squawk of the alarm speaker.

"We have a General Alarm. All units are 10-08[1]. Section 8a, 2300 Lincoln Avenue. We have a report of a structure fire. All units are 10-08. General Alarm section 8a."

Before the female voice had even gotten to the section number, Duo was sprinting to the map, waiting for the address to see who would go. As soon as the dispatcher announced the section, Duo relaxed and started to wander back towards Quatre.

"Damnit! We would get a fire right at shift change!" Duo howled, watching as the guys on the previous shift raced to the rig and jumped into their bunker gear.

Less than thirty seconds after the announcement had started coming over the speakers, Engine 8 pulled out of the bay with the wail of sirens and the flash of lights.

"It couldn't have waited another half an hour! No. It had to start up before the rest of my crew got here. Damnit. I hate missing fires," Duo pouted.

"You confuse me, Duo… I never understood why you like fire so much? I mean, it's someone's life and property, their dreams, and their livelihoods going up in flames. What could be good about that?"

"Q-man, I don't want fires to happen… That would suck. No. It's just that, no matter how good a job we do, fires are going to happen. Granted there's a hell of a lot less of them now than there were, say 100 years ago, but fire is a fact of life. It's just that, if they are going to happen, I want to be there."

Quatre speared him with an odd look.

"I thought you had to take a psychological review to get hired with the fire department. Don't they frown on hiring pyromaniacs?"

Duo doubled over with laughter.

"Oh, that's rich, Q-man! Pyro…. Heh. You gotta love the beast a little, if you wanna stand any chance of slaying it. Seriously though… It's not the fire I like. It's the action… eating the smoke, hauling the hose… the ember's raining down on you, and the fear. Fear so thick you can taste it in your mask, and feel it in your blood… But ya still keep going. And every once in a while, you get to pull someone from the throat of the beast. Every once in a while, you get a save. There's no better feeling in the world, man, You should know that. Yer a freakin' paramedic, for god's sake!"

"And you are an adrenaline junkie."

"You bet, man," Duo crowed with a grin, "Come on. I'll help you check the ambulance over while we wait for the rest of our crews to get in.

* * *

Heero pulled his truck into the parking lot beside Station 8, and positioned it between two other trucks. Beside the truck on his left, sat a vintage Corvette Stingray. Obviously somebody's pride and joy, given the polished sheen of the stately silver paint job, and the lovingly buffed tires. Beside the truck on his right, sat the most beautiful '69 Chevy Camaro SS he'd ever seen. Its glossy black finish and the tinted windows made the rakehell car seem to fling itself into the wind without moving an inch. He whistled appreciatively as he hopped out of his truck and grabbed his new bunker gear from the bed.

He passed another couple of cars in the lot, but the elegance of the Stingray, and the roguish 'Maro stole the show. He almost caught himself sighing wistfully at the 'Maro, before he squelched the reaction.

Gathering his wits, he strolled into the bay of the firehouse and looked around.

Engine 8 was nowhere in sight. Medic 6 sat by itself in the garage, and a pair of masculine voices could be heard from inside of the ambulance.

Heero dropped his bunker gear in an out of the way spot by a wall, and wandered over.

"… check. That's the last of it, Q-man."

The owner of that voice backed out of the rig and hopped to the floor. His back was turned, so Heero couldn't make anything out about his features, other than the slim, muscular build, and the chestnut colored bangs peeking out from under the Fire Department baseball cap he was wearing.

"Thanks, Duo. It would have taken a lot longer without your help."

"No prob, man. That's what buddies are for. Where is Trowa, anyway?" the chestnut haired man asked of a lithe blonde climbing out of the rig.

"He spent the night at his sister's last night. Catherine's been concerned about him, with the sudden increase in violence lately. She- Umm. Hello," the blonde said, noticing him for the first time.

Duo spun around, spearing Heero with a glance.

"Hiya! You must be the new guy! I'm Duo. Duo Maxwell. I'm the driver for 8 on this shift," he said, holding out his hand.

Heero took it and gave it a perfunctory shake.

"Heero Yuy."

"Hi. I'm Quatre Raberba Winner. I'm one of the paramedics on 6. Nice to meet you."

Heero nodded at him, shaking his hand briefly before turning back to Duo.

"Eight left on a fire about ten minutes ago. They'll probably be gone for a while. When Captain Merquise gets here, we'll probably pile into someone's car and head over to relieve them. C'mon. I'll give you a tour."

He led Heero through a doorway centered on the back wall between the two spots for the vehicles. To the left of the door, Heero could see through a huge window into what was obviously an office. There was a desk, a pair of filing cabinets, a computer, and dozens of maps plastered all over the walls. As he passed through the door, he found himself in a short hallway, also papered with maps. The main one was a floor to ceiling map of the entire city, with a huge portion of it colored over in green highlighter. Duo noticed his interest.

"That's our district. We're first in on a fire anywhere that's green. Everywhere else we only go if someone is out of service, or if they need back up. If you aren't familiar with the city, get there quick. Never know when you may have to drive the rig."

Heero nodded, already planning some time to sit and memorize the maps.

They passed the office, and exited the hallway. It opened into a huge room with three refrigerators, a table with six chairs, all the necessary cooking implements and accouterments, and against the far wall, a couch, two comfy chairs, and a large TV.

"This is the main room. It's a combo kitchen/TV lounge. You don't smoke, do ya? Cos there's no smoking indoors. No? Great. C'mon."

Duo led him through a doorway against the right hand wall, and into the bunkroom. Six beds were arranged, three to each side of the room, with an aisle down the center, leading to another door. There were four-foot high partitions between each bunk, shielding it from its neighbor, as well as a bank of lockers to his right.

"This is the bedroom, the bunk closest to the door will be yours. Any of the lockers that are empty are up for grabs, so just pick one without a lock on it. Back there," he said, indicating the doorway down the aisle, " is the 'Cave'. It's just another TV room, but it doesn't have that many windows, and it's got its own climate controls, so it can get a little dark and chilly. Bathroom's through this door here on the right. You're low guy on the roster, so you get to clean them every morning. And that's just about it. Any questions?"

"How many people are stationed here?"

"Right now? Just five of us. Quatre and Trowa man the ambulance, and then you, me, and Captain Merquise will man the engine. We used to have another guy, Wufei Chang, but he just got transferred to Arson. You're taking his place."

Heero nodded and glanced around, following Duo back out into the kitchen.

"Why three fridges?"

"One for each shift. That one in the center is our shift's. That way we aren't pilfering each other's milk and eggs and stuff... not that it really stops us. But… We buy all of our own food; usually go grocery shopping around 9 if we don't have any training for the day. Can you cook? We run a kitchen here, so if you don't want in on the meals, let us know when we shop. Otherwise, we decide what we all want to have to eat for the day, buy enough to fix it for all of us, and then split the cost. We can usually eat for about five bucks a person a day."

As Heero nodded in answer, a tall man with platinum blonde bangs peeking out from under his own baseball cap walked into the kitchen.

"Good morning Duo. Good morning…"

"Heero Yuy."

Good morning, Heero. I'm Captain Merquise. Is that your truck out there?" he asked, his low voice both commanding and oddly soothing.

Heero nodded in answer.

"Good. You get to drive. Grab your gear, boys. We have to go relieve First Shift and get our rig."

Duo grinned and jogged out of the kitchen into the bay. Heero followed in his wake.

"See ya in a while Q-man. Gotta go earn our paycheck!" Duo called with a wave as he gathered his bunkers. Quatre returned the wave, and continued talking to a tall, skinny man with the most incredibly gravity-defying bangs Heero had ever seen.

Heero grabbed his gear, and then headed out for his truck. Duo was already there, his gear stashed in the bed, along with himself.

"You may want to put your pants on at least. It'll make getting dressed a lot quicker once we get there. Sounds like a cooker, eh Zechs?" Duo grinned maniacally.

Heero turned to see his captain approaching, already clothed in his bunker pants. Heero tossed his coat in he back and slipped into his boots and pants.

"Sounds like it. They've already called in another Truck[2], and a fifth Engine.[3] We're going to 2300 Lincoln. Know where that is?" Zechs asked Heero.

Heero didn't even have to think about it before he nodded.

"Good. Let's go. First Shift need replaced."

Heero hopped in and started the truck as Zechs climbed into the passenger seat.

As he navigated out into traffic, Zechs turned to him to explain.

"Normally, in the morning, if the rig is gone when you get in, we wait until the previous crew gets back with it. But that's because nine times out of ten, they will be out on a medical call, not a fire. Since it's a fire, and the last crew is already tired from yesterday, we're taking our gear and heading to the scene. Once there, we'll replace them, and they'll bring your truck back here. That way, we have fresh people on the fire, and the last crew can go home and rest. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. When we get there, I'll check with the chief and see where he wants us. No matter what, you stay with me, got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. No getting killed on your first fire. It's a union by-law."

It took Heero a moment to realize that his captain had just cracked a joke at him, but by then, they had pulled up at the fire, and Zechs and Duo were hopping out. Heero shut off the truck, but left the keys in it as he climbed out and finished putting on the rest of his gear.

Zechs found the Batt Chief and motioned them over.

"We'll wait here for the other crew to come out and give us their radios, and their Scott packs[4]. Then we get to make entry and take up their position on the fire attack on the first floor. I want you between Duo and I at all times. Understand?" Zechs asked, pointing out their route on a hastily scribbled map the Batt Chief was showing them.

"Yes, sir," Heero said.

A minute or two later, three men in sooty bunkers, and large number "8"s emblazoned on their helmets stumbled out the front door. Firefighters who were waiting beside the doors leapt forward and started helping them get their masks and coats off, hastening the pace of the switch, and getting the tired firefighters cooled down and out of the way.

"Let's get some fresh bottles in those Scotts, guys," Zechs instructed as they retrieved the air packs.

With practiced hands, they shut down the air, removed the mostly spent tanks, and replaced them with fresh bottles, filled with about, supposedly, forty-five minutes worth of air. During heavy use, the air would actually last about half an hour to forty minutes. Once the fresh tanks were secured and turned on, the three of them donned their masks, and headed for the front door. Just before they made entry, they clicked their regulators into place. Once Zechs was sure that everyone was fully geared up, had a radio, and had a working Scott pack, he signaled them to kneel down beside the hose.

Then they all crawled into the darkness.

* * *

Notes:  
[1] 10-08 In service (available) Basically, it means yer free to take any calls/ emergencies

[2] The difference between a Truck and an Engine is an Engine pumps water and carries hose. A Truck is the one of the big long rigs with the aerial ladders. They have no pump, carry no hose, and specialize in forced entry, ventilation, and rescue. A Telesquirt is kind of a combination between the two. Its aerial ladder is much shorter than a Trucks (Trucks' average a ladder length of about 100-120 feet, while the longest Squirt ladder I've ever seen is around 75 feet) as well as being much less heavy duty. Typically, the guardrails on a Squirt's ladder fold down and add no structural strength. They are just there to guide you from falling off, not keep you from falling off.

[3] Standard response to a fire where I come from is four engines and a truck, as well as a Battalion Chief to orchestrate the whole thing.

[4] Scott pack- One of the most popular brands of Self Contained Breathing Apparatus (SCBA) in use today is manufactured by the Scott Company, hence, many people simply call the SCBA Scott packs.


	3. Chapter 2

The quick rush of air blowing past his face signaled a breath drawn too deeply, sucked in too quickly, to Heero. He hated the feel of the Scott masks. It wasnt like breathing from a SCUBA regulator at all, where you would simply draw a breath like normal. With the Scott masks, there was a tiny resistance at the beginning of each breath. Just a little hitch, nothing more, as the positive pressure valve opened. And then the air was blown through the regulator, into the mask. The air wasn't simply there for use, it was forced into use.

On one hand, that rush of air helped to try and keep him cool, like sticking his head out a car window on a hot summer's day. On the other hand, it robbed him of his feeling of control. It was as if the regulator was breathing for him, and he had no power over his own respirations. He hated that sensation. If there was one thing he would never allow to happen again, it was to allow anyone, or anything to take charge of his life.

As he crawled forward, one hand on the hose, and the other searching along the floor, he could feel it building within him. The fear. The excitement. The rush.

He could sense the fear running though his veins, triggering his body's reflexes. He wasn't afraid. That wasn't the source of the fear. It was the pure physiological reaction to the sudden rise in ambient temperature, and the inability to see more than six inches in front of him. It was knowing that somewhere, up ahead of them in the darkness, soot, and gloom, there was a raging beast, devouring the very walls around them, eating the floor beneath their knees, dissolving the supports to the ceiling over their heads. Unseen in the darkness, coiled a demon eager to suck the marrow from their bones, and rip the souls from their flesh. His body responded to that knowledge, pumping him with adrenaline, increasing his heart rate, and speeding up his breaths.

He spared a second to consciously force himself to slow his breathing. The sound of the air rushing into his mask crashed like an ocean wave against his ears. Surely his Captain before him, or Duo behind him, would be able to hear that rush of sound, betraying his inner excitement.

He could feel Duo's gloved hand on his boot as the other firefighter crawled right behind him. Heero firmed his grip on the hose and peered into the gloom, searching for the flames. He set the physical distractions of his body's responses aside, and concentrated on seeking out the crackle of the fire, the feel of the floor, and the lifeline of the hose.

Zechs' bulk ghosted out of the gloom as Heero caught up with the older man. His Captain was kneeling up, picking up the hose and clutching it tight to his side. Heero climbed over the hose, putting himself on the opposite side as his Captain, before he took a position right behind him. Bracing his knees against Zechs' feet, he grabbed the next few feet of hose as he knelt up too. With the hose securely pinned against his left side, he extended his right arm and leaned heavily into Zechs. A second later, he could feel Zechs' body buck back against his arm as the Captain opened the nozzle on the hose. The incredible back pressure pressed against them, the hose fighting their grasp as the primal force of water struggled to be set free against its ages-old nemesis. Heero instinctively shifted his weight, keeping the supporting pressure against Zechs firm and constant as the Captain played the water stream over the fire.

Heero could hear the howl of the fire as the water hit it. It screamed as hundreds of gallons of water were instantly converted to steam. He felt the cloud of hot water vapor wash over him, driving him down, pounding him to the floor relentlessly.

Water was both their greatest friend, and their worst enemy, in a fire. A single gallon of water would convert into 1700 gallons of steam, and all at once if the room was hot enough. It was hot enough. Firemen had been thrown bodily from buildings before, simply because of the explosion of steam as someone opened the hose. That's why experienced firefighters always kept their water stream tight and focused, and aimed low at first, rather than in a wide fog pattern, which would increase the surface area, and high up in a room where the temperatures could be as much as 1000 degrees higher.

Zechs hadn't made it to captain at a young age by being inexperienced. After a moment, the pressure of the steam let up, although the temperature was still high. Heero leaned forward, giving his Captain a little relief from the backpressure of the hose. Duo molded to Heero's back, helping take some of the strain off of him.

The three of them crawled forward, fighting down the throat of the fire, dousing the ceiling and walls, coating the floor. All Heero could make out of his surroundings was a faint cherry glare in the direction they were steadily crawling, the deep black gloom of the soot, smoke and charred surroundings, and the occasional faint whisp of thick, feathery white steam. He could feel the crunch of charcoal and embers under his knees, and he could feel the buildup of heat through the heavy cloth of his bunkers. It was growing darker as the crimson glow of the fire sputtered and guttered under his Captain's assault.

Peering into the deepening gloom, Heero spared himself a rueful chuckle. Who would have thought it could be so dark in the middle of the day? He'd never understood what fire was all about before this job. Hollywood's dramatic interpretations and tidy little propane fed blazes could do nothing to prepare the average person for the reality of an honest fire.

There were no open rooms with shoots of flame drifting artistically up the walls. There were no clear views of your target, and easy walks into familiar territory. Victims didn't just lie in the middle of the floor, waiting dramatically to be dragged from their not-so-fiery hell into the waiting arms of handsome young paramedics.

There would be fire. Oh yes, it would be there, eating everything up and belching out thick clouds of acrid smoke. Black if you were lucky and there were no strange chemicals or other hazardous materials there. Most often it would be a sick yellow or a leprous grey of melting polystyrene or combusting foam and plastic. Black wood smoke was getting to be rarer and rarer.

You couldn't see your hand touching your mask most of the time, even in good light. Usually, you would find the fire by the sound of its crackle, or the feel of the heat. You wouldn't see it until you were practically crawling into it. Simply forget about walking into it. Walking would give you no idea of the terrain you were entering. The floor could simply cease to exist below your feet, and youd ne'ver know it until it was too late if you were walking. That's why you crawled. Never mind the fact that most of the time, if you stood up in a fire, you'd melt your helmet, your facemask, and, most likely, you, right off. It was cooler on the floor, cool enough to crawl in and slay the beast.

As for the victims, they had an amazing ability to wedge themselves into the tiniest places, crawl into the most minute of spaces, and vanish under or behind objects in their search for safety from the fire. If you found someone out in the middle of the floor, odds were, they were probably already dead. However, if you did find a victim, they would be mostly incapacitated, and unable to help you drag their dead weight out. Of course, there would be people waiting just outside whose job it was to help you get the victim to those handsome young paramedics. Heero considered the two paramedics who he'd passed on his way out of Station 8. Handsome? Check. Young? Check. At least there was one thing Hollywood got right.

Zechs suddenly leaned forward, almost toppling both Heero and Duo on top of him as he shut down the hose. He turned and leaned close enough to Heero that their masks were touching. Heero could hear the buzz and feel the vibrations of Zechs' low air warning. As Duo crawled up next to them both, the driver's own warning began to buzz.

"Time to pull out. We need more air!" Zechs shouted, trying to make himself heard through the stifling masks.

Heero and Duo both signaled their assent as they turned and started following the hose back out. Heero could hear Zechs behind him, radioing their status out. His own radio vibrated against his chest as the Batt Chief responded outside. He thought he caught something about replacements, but he wasn't sure, since his own buzzer chose that moment to start going off.

Halfway to the outside, three firefighters bumped into them, heading towards where they'd left the nozzle of the hose. After a quick shuffle, Heero and his crew continued their progress outside, while the other three took up their positions deep within the building.

His mask fogged up badly as the sweat and heat finally began to take its toll on him. All he could make out of the haze before him was a gradual brightening in the fog as they approached the door. He didn't even realize he'd made it all the way out until someone was hauling him to his feet, and pulling off his helmet and mask.

As soon as the mask came off, he sucked in a great lungful of air, surprised at how much cooler it was than his tank air. Beside him, Duo was doing the same thing. Heero turned around in time to see Zechs crawl out of the cloud of smoke and into the clean outer air. He started to walk forward to help his Captain, the same way someone had helped him, but he was stopped by a strange firefighter who stepped up and efficiently accomplished the tasks.

"Relax man," Duo panted beside him.

"That's what the RIT Team[1] is for. Get some air… Take a breather. We'll be in there getting our asses kicked again in no time," Duo said between gulps of air.

Zechs, no freed of his mask and tank, motioned for Heero and Duo to follow him as he went over to see the Batt Chief.

"We're out."

"Get to Rehab.[2] You guys were in there for forty-five minutes."

Zechs nodded, and headed for Engine 8.

"Take off your coat and you hood. Cool down before you give yourself heat exhaustion. There's a water cooler in the cab with some cups. Get something to drink," Zechs instructed him as he started to shrug out of the sweaty, heavy coat.

Heero hopped into the cab and got three cups full of water and handed them out to Duo and his Captain before he started shrugging out of his gear.

"We really gotta be careful about dehydration, since we get so hot in there. Especially when we've been in for a while and out air packs start to heat up. Once our air gets warm, then not even breathing helps cool us off. Didja notice?" Duo asked.

Heero nodded after he pulled off his nomex hood. Curiously, neither Duo, nor Zechs had removed their own hoods. Heero filed that away in the back of his brain as he gulped down the whole cup of water, and the retrieved the cooler to refill everyone's cups.

"Wu-man!" Duo crowed as he took the full cup of water from Heero.

Across the fireground, a slim, young Chinese man turned to stare at the wildly gesticulating Engine 8 Driver. He waved and started making his way over towards them.

"Hey, Wu. Wondered if we'd see you here," Duo said, restraining himself from grabbing the other man in a hug only because of his sweaty, sooty state.

"Hn. Someone has to try and piece together the disaster you leave behind," he replied, tossing an appraising glance at Heero.

"We? Leave behind? Hey, you used to be right here with us, Wu-man. Bustin' out walls and takin' down doors with the best of us. But then you had to go and abandon us! *sniff* So we had to get ol' Heero here to replace ya," he quipped back, throwing an arm around Heeros shoul'ders in a brotherly fashion.

Heero speared him with an icy glare. Duo remained oblivious as he continued chattering on.

"He uses air better than you, Wu-man. Outlasted Zechs an' I both. Can ya believe it? So you just go right on and play your little Arson Inspector games, and we'll just go right on *earning* our paychecks," Duo said, winking at Wufei playfully.

"Hn. Whatever, Maxwell."

He turned to Heero then and offered his hand.

"I'm Wufei. I managed to escape this crazy baka when I went to Arson. There's always slots open over there, just in case," he suggested, tossing a slight smirk at Duo.

Duo stuck out his tongue childishly while Zechs chuckled.

"Heero. Heero Yuy. I'll keep it in mind."

"Batt Chief says the fire is almost out. You guys did a good job. They'll need you for overhaul[3] in about fifteen minutes or so," Wufei said to Zechs.

Zechs nodded as he refilled his cup and drained it dry.

Duo chattered at them all while they watched other firefighters come and go from the building. Heero mainly blocked out the drone of the driver's voice as he committed as much of the fire as he could to memory. He needed to be quicker, stronger, calmer. His air should have lasted longer, and he shouldn't be so worn out.

He didn't notice when Wufei wandered off, and Duo got quiet. At least, not until Duo leaned very close and whispered in his ear.

"Don't sweat it man. This is tougher than it looks."

"Huh?" Heero glanced at him.

"You. The fire. I can see it in your eyes. Yer angry at yourself for not being 'tough enough'. Don't sweat it man. This shit is harder than it seems. You did better than a lot of seasoned pros. Your air outlasted mine and the Captain's… I didn't think that was possible. You did great, man. Don't sweat it."

"Hn."

Duo shook his head.

"You and Trowa are going to get along great."

Heero chose not to dignify that with a response.

He wasn't sure how much longer it had been, but the Batt Chief eventually waved them all over, so they ditched their water, grabbed their gear, and headed back to work.

* * *

Duo and Heero were in a back room of the burnt out building, using a long tool with a sharp hook on one end to rip down the ceiling.

"Nah, this section's clear. Let's head over to that corner. Looks like there may have been some extension there."

Heero followed his lead and started demolishing the corner, just as Wufei carefully picked his way into the room. Duo paused, leaning on his pike pole as he watched Wufei examine the room carefully.

"Well, Wu-man? Was it arson?"

Wufei stared pointedly at the area where Duo was standing and pursed his lips.

"Well, if it was, then it's a homicide case now."

"Huh?" Duo asked, his face puzzled.

"Duo, would you mind not standing on the bodies?" Wufei asked, pointing at the charred lumps Duo's big boots were balanced on.

Heero turned then, watching as Duo jumped to peer down at his feet.

"That's a body?" Duo yelled, backing off towards Heero.

"Yes. And so is the one you just walked across. Actually, that whole pile of stuff is," Wufei said, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips as he pointed to the area of the room that both Duo and Heero were standing in.

Heero spared a glance down towards his own feet, and just barely made out the outline of an arm against the char and debris.

"Hn."

Carefully placing his feet, he extricated himself from that side of the room and went to stand next to Wufei. Duo wasn't nearly as graceful as he bounced out of the pile of flotsam.

"Man, that's gross!"

Wufei started to snicker a little as he knelt down and poked at the edge of the pile a little.

"Heero, could you go get the Battalion Chief for me? We're going to need PD assistance on this. This just became a crime scene."

Heero nodded and turned. The last thing he heard as he exited the room was Duo's aggrieved voice.

"Wu-man, yer one sick puppy!"

* * *

Heero watched as the police and the arson team taped off the building. The Forensics van was parked just beyond the perimeter, while the Forensics Technicians busied themselves with shrugging on their coveralls and gloves. Duo walked up and handed him a fresh cup of water. Zechs was still over talking to the Batt Chief.

"Some fire, ne?"

"Hn."

"Can you believe Wu? 'Duo, would you mind not standing on the bodies?'" Duo quipped in a near perfect mimicry of Wufei's slightly amused voice.

Heero glanced over at the other man. Duo was frowning as he watched the Forensics Techs enter the scene. Heero almost couldn't help the quirk of his lips as they threatened to smile without his permission. He shook his head and concentrated on something other than the frown on those pouty lips.

"Why haven't you taken off your hood yet?" Heero asked.

Duo jumped, as if he'd forgotten the presence of his partner beside him.

"Huh? Oh. Hrm. Don't wanna mess up my hair, big guy," he replied with what was supposed to be a sultry wink.

With the hood compressing some of his face, and the smudges of soot across his cheeks and nose, the effect was somewhat more comical than lecherous. Heero simply shook his head and drained his cup.

Zechs chose that moment to start heading back their way.

"Do we have all of our tools loaded back up?" He asked Duo as he neared them.

"Yup. They didn't pull anything off other than a couple of axes and the pike poles Heero and I were using, anyway. Are we outta here?" He asked.

Zechs nodded.

"Arson and PD have the scene now. Weve be'en cut loose. Let's head home, boys."

Duo let out a whoop and up-ended his cup over Heero's head before he dashed around to the other side of the rig and hopped into the driver's seat.

Heero shook his head, trying to get rid of the water dripping into his eyes with little success. Zechs merely chuckled as he climbed into the Captain's seat.

"You coming, man? Or you planning on staying here today?" Duo yelled, laughing at Heero through he window.

Heero growled to himself as he climbed into the engine. Duo gunned the motor and backed the rig out onto the street. When traffic had cleared, he pulled away from the scene and headed for Station 8, singing "We Are The Champions" at the top of his voice.

Heero sighed to himself.

It was going to be a long day.

~TBC~

* * *

Notes:  
[1] RIT Team- Rapid Intervention Team. Their main purpose is the be fully ready to enter the building at any moment to either rescue injured personnel or victims, and to help firefighters exiting the scene get to the rehab station as soon as possible.

[2] Rehab- Once a firefighter has exited the fire scene, he or she is encouraged to go cool down and get something to drink until he or she is needed again. These breaks are typically voluntary unless the firefighter has been inside the scene for an entire air tank or more, and then Rehab is required.

[3] Overhaul- the process of ripping out walls and ceilings to look for fire that may have escaped notice before. (One of the main reasons I'm convinced that people actually become firefighters… Sanctioned destruction.)


	4. Chapter 3

Treize Kushrenada contemplated the match held in his fingers with a cool, poised air. There was no one there to see the faintly bored expression on his face. Neither was there anyone there to see the very faint, almost invisible glimmer in the depth of his eyes as he contemplated the unlit match.

It wasn´t exactly madness. It wasn´t what anyone could call mania. It wasn´t even quite devotion. But it was something.

Treize, himself, would have called it destiny, had anyone asked him. Of course, he always planned his jobs out so that no one would be there to ask him. Otherwise, what would be the point? He wasn´t in this business to be caught.

He was in it to make money.

At least that´s what he told his assistant, Une. He was pretty certain that she knew better, however. He was fairly sure that on at least one occasion or more, she´d seen the faint shimmer in his eyes as his beast flared to life. She´d noticed the pride and avid lust before they´d subsided back into that part of his soul where he kept such things locked.

And he was also fairly certain that she was jealous of it.

Not that she had need to be. For all the beauty of his pet, his crimson serpent, his insidious flame, it was too violent, and far too unpredictable to hold to his breast. The ideal? That he could hold dear. But ideals didn´t keep one warm in bed at night.

He sighed, drawing his wandering thoughts back to the task at hand. The matches clutched in his fingers gave him strength and purpose. The staple holding the book together caught against the slight callous on his palm, scratching a small white furrow there. He ignored it as he swiped the match against the strip on the matchbook. The head sprang to life, bursting into bloom with a sibilant hiss.

He felt his nether regions grow tight as the scent of the sulfur drifted to his nose and the slight heat of the flame bathed his fingers. He quickly dropped the match into the wastebasket, watching carefully to make sure the tenuous flame caught and grew.

There was a time when he´d built complicated devices, electronic triggers, chemical bombs, and other assorted "masterpieces" to give birth to his creature. Those days were long past. It was too easy for those devices and chemicals to survive the beast´s wrath and be found by clever investigators. Those same devices and chemicals could be traced back, through the myriad of contacts and sources, until it ultimately led to him.

He´d survived that period of amateurishness to move on to simpler, more time-honored methods.

No more did he tote bags and boxes of supplies into his "jobs". Now, he simply worked with anything that happened to be on hand. And often, rather, usually, he could make it look like a faulty wire, or a misplaced cigarette, and do so so convincingly, that a mere fraction of his fires were ever considered to be arson.

That´s why he was the best. That´s why he commanded such a high price for his services.

He watched the fire hatch from its wastebasket cocoon and leap towards the walls and curtains. His eyes grew hooded and dark… seductive. Or seduced. It was hard to tell. It was always hard to tell who was the mater, and who was the slave when Treize freed his creature.

His beautiful creature. His destiny.

The world didn´t understand him or his wonderful beast. They enslaved his beast, holding its wrath in check to heat their water, churn out their power, feed their cars. They tormented his seductive child by letting it out to play in the fields every spring and fall, but only briefly, and only to be ruthlessly squelched again and again.

How dare they torture his blessed beast? Did they not understand Its power? Its cleansing touch?

The world needed such a cleansing. The purity of his child could return order to the world.

That was his destiny. That was the purpose of his beast.

He gave his creature one last lingering look before he slipped from the building, leaving it to its fate. He left the area quickly, not from want, but need. The scent of smoke still lingered in his clothing, marking him.

Fitting, bearing that mark. Who was the father, and who was the child? Who was the beast, and who the master?

He who unleashed the destructive force of his creature on the undeserving world, or the wash of flame and phoenix fire that was his creature? He, who ultimately controlled the birth of his child, or the beast that ultimately controlled his destiny?

Fitting then, to bear such a mark.

That was, after all, his destiny.

* * *

The drive back to the station was accomplished in relative calm. Relative, as long as you ignored Duo´s rather loud rendition of Danger Zone, which had followed his equally loud, but surprisingly on-key rendition of We Are The Champions.

Duo pulled Engine 8 up to the curb next to the station, letting Heero hop out to direct traffic. With a frightening squeal of tires, Duo whipped the big engine into the main part of the street, cranked the wheel, and backed the engine into the narrow confines of its bay.

This was the true test of a driver´s skill: the ability to get the rig parked without kissing the wall. It didn´t sound too difficult, until you considered the bare seven inches or less of clearance on either side of the truck. The challenge of backing an eight foot nine inch object through a gap less than ten feet wide, especially considering the fifty foot length, was more difficult that one first guessed. Particularly if the driver, like Duo, enjoyed doing said task at breakneck speed.

Heero hoped the rig had good brakes.

Engine 8 settled to a halt in the bay, surprisingly without the tortured sound of steel on glass and concrete that Heero had been expecting.

Guess the rig really did have good brakes.

Heero sighed and walked into the bay, watching as Duo hopped out of the rig jauntily.

Quatre and the other man entered the bay from the direction of the kitchen, coffee mugs in hand.

"Heya Q-man! Trowa! Whassup?"

"Nothing, Duo. What did you guys have?"

"Broken down old flophouse. Messy messy messy. Saw Wufei there… He says 'Hi.' Man, whodda thunk he´d have such a sick sense of humor?"

"What do you mean?"

"Eh... Looks like the place had squatters... They didn't make it out of the blaze. How was *I* supposed to know that it wasn't just another pile of burnt up trash and ceiling? Gross, man."

Quatre gasped, his face paling a little.

"How horrible!"

Heero glanced over at the quiet paramedic as he broke down his Scott pack and popped another fresh tank in. Their eyes met.

"Hey, Trowa. This is our new guy. Heero Yuy. Heero, that's Trowa Barton. You guys should get along great. You two share the same writer," Duo said with a snort, as he walked over to grab the nearby hose to wash off the truck.

Heero didn't offer a response other than a quick nod to Trowa. Trowa nodded back, one eyebrow cocked up in an eloquent query.

"Hn."

Trowa almost smiled at that.

"Check your boots," he said, eyes shifting to Duo for a second.

Heero followed his glance, and then nodded.

Duo remained oblivious to the exchange. Zechs did not.

"And your bed," Zechs offered quietly as he slipped past Heero, "Trust me."

Heero nodded and watched as his captain walked into the kitchen hallway. He cocked his head and frowned.

Zechs had finally taken off his nomex hood, and was obviously heading for the showers. What made Heero frown was the long cascade of platinum blonde hair that swept in sweaty straggles well past the man's shoulder blades. How in the world had he managed to hide all that hair under a baseball cap?

Quatre noticed his look and walked up, offering to give Heero a hand with cleaning off their tools.

"You think that's something, wait until you see Duo. He's- Well, you'll see," Quatre said with a pleasant smile.

Duo finished spraying off the rig, replaced all of his equipment, and switched out a new tank of air in his Scott pack. Having finished with all of that, he pulled off his hood and started sauntering for the kitchen doors, a three-foot braid of hair brushing his back.

"See?"

"How-"

"The department had to lighten the hair code restrictions when women started joining. Couldn't have separate standards, after all. He just knows how to bend the rules."

Heero blinked. Bend the rules? How about contort the rules into a Chinese puzzle knot?

He shook his head, finished settling his gear for the next call, and then followed his new crew into the engine house for a well-deserved shower. He paused at the door and grabbed up his duffel bag from where he'd left it a couple of hours before.

The bunkroom was empty when he walked in and dropped off his bag. The sounds of Duo's voice carried through the closed doorway from the bathroom, as well as the sound of running water. Heero grabbed a towel and some soap out of his bag, stripped down to his shorts, and walked through the door.

The bathroom was pretty large, with a small bank of stalls off to his right beside a couple of urinals. There was a bank of sinks to his left, and an open doorway against the left wall that led into an apparently communal shower. Through the doorway, he could see his captain's back as the man rinsed the mane of hair free of soot and cinder. Heero kicked off his shorts and dropped them, and his towel off onto a bench where they might stay dry, and then entered the shower.

Duo stood near the opposite wall, letting the water cascade down his back as he freed his hair from its tight braid. It fell in thick waves to the man's knees. Duo noticed his curious regard and winked at him.

"One nice thing about women in the fire service. Can't tell me to cut it anymore!"

Heero frowned. Why wouldn't anyone want to cut it? That much hair was a liability. It had to be. At the very least, it had to be a pain in the ass to care for. What could anyone need all that hair for anyway? It wasn´t as if it served as any sort of aesthetic enhancement, since he kept it tightly braided and stuffed up under a baseball cap all of the time. Not that Duo needed any aesthetic enhancement. Nor his captain.

Heero frowned. Where did that thought come from?

Turning on the faucet, he tuned out the driver, who had begun humming to himself, and reviewed his own performance for the morning.

He'd made his air last adequately. Particularly since he'd outlasted everyone else on the crew. That was acceptable. He thought he'd done a fairly good job keeping up with Zechs and keeping the hose unencumbered. He'd have to ask Zechs about that later. Duo had seemed, while not impressed with his performance, not upset about it either. That was acceptable. He'd been pretty tired when they'd been sent to rehab, though. It took him a full minute and three-fourths longer than he'd anticipated to get his wind back. That was unacceptable. Duo had said something about having done a good job, but Heero knew he'd have to do better at gauging his own physical limitations and responses. That kind of miscalculation could prove dangerous in the future.

His mind started racing, outlining a new physical fitness regimen designed to improve his stamina. A spray of cooler water caught him off guard, mid-thought.

Duo was flinging back the wet curtain of his hair as he attempted to rinse it clean. He had his eyes closed, and seemed to be... dancing? Yes. He was dancing to the tune he was humming, oblivious to Heero's scowl.

Heero had a feeling that Duo's hair would quickly become a bone of contention between the two of them. Or a sick obsession. Heero shuddered.

He tuned Duo out again and completed his shower efficiently, finishing long before his captain or driver. Shutting the water off, he left the shower, grabbed up his towel and shorts, and started drying off as he slipped back into the bunkroom. He was almost completely dressed again when Duo pranced- yes, pranced, into the bunkroom clad in nothing more than a towel. With a wink and a grin, Duo flung his head forward, flipping his hair over his shoulder with a wide arc of water, spraying directly for Heero.

He didn´t try to dodge. There was no point. He simply closed his eyes and waited for the water to pass.

Duo laughed, a deep, happy chuckle making his whole body shake with mirth.

"Man, you shouldda seen your face! Like getting sent to Death Row or sumpthin´!"

Zechs entered the bunkroom, a towel girding him low on the hips, and a bundle of clothing clutched under one arm.

Heero blinked.

"So. What´d ya think? Pretty fun stuff, huh? That was a good first job fire, ya know. Not too hot… not too easy… plenty of action, but not enough to scare ya away, ne?"

Heero swallowed hard, and then turned back to donning his uniform, his face set in its normal half-scowl.

Duo paused, watching Heero for a moment before he spoke and caught his attention.

"Yer not still pissed about the fire, are ya? You really did do a great job, ya know."

Heero turned and watched as Duo pulled on a fresh uniform, his hair leaving little puddles of water all over the floor.

"Do you ever stop talking?"

"Wow! A complete sentence! Congratulations, you just won an award!" Duo grinned.

"Hn."

Heero gave it up and slipped out while the driver was occupied wrangling his mass of hair.

By the time his captain had finished getting dried off and redressed, Heero had completed cleaning the kitchen, and was moving on to the bathrooms. He slipped in in time to see Duo finishing braiding his hair. With a quick twist and a flip, the entire length was stuffed under the ubiquitous baseball cap.

"How do you do that?" he asked, unable to contain his curiosity any more.

"Years of practice. It's easy when it's wet. Stays where I put it and stuff. You should see it dry. Wow... talk about static electricity! On a really dry day, I end up looking like Yahoo Serious!"

"Who?"

Duo sighed.

"Yahoo Serious. You've never heard of him? Lemme guess... You probably don't watch too much comedy, right?"

"Why? Serves no purpose."

Duo blinked. The shower dripped into the silence. Duo blinked again.

"Um... what do you do to relax then? You know... Have fun? De-stress? Zone out? Chill man?"

Heero fixed him with an expressionless glare.

"You do know how to relax, right?"

"Hn."

"Did you know that one of the leading causes of death for firefighters is heart attack?" Duo asked nonchalantly.

"Hn."

Duo shook his head, an amazed sigh escaping his lips.

"Yup. Yer a statistic waiting to happen. Well, enjoy your bathroom duties. I gotta report to fill out!"

Duo skipped out the door with a chuckle, leaving Heero to contemplate the conversation.

Statistic? If the braided baka wasn´t careful, Heero would show him a statistic or five that he´d never forget. Right across the jaw.

* * *

"What else can I do for you, Captain Merquise?" Heero asked after finishing the bathrooms and the floors.

"Looks like you've got it all... Just look over the rig, learn where everything is at, and grab a cup of coffee or something. No. Not you, Duo. You know the rules. No coffee for you!"

Duo pouted, mid-reach for the steaming pot.

"Damn... One lousy Hannibal Lechter impression and they never let you live it down..." he muttered.

"That's your own fault. If you hadn't done said impression on the county wide radio band..." Zechs admonished.

"Right in the middle of the regional mock-disaster drill…" Quatre added.

"While the Mayor was giving a speech…" Trowa put in.

Heero tossed a sardonic glance at the driver. Duo grinned unrepentantly. Zechs poured himself a cup of coffee with a sigh and sat down to read the training schedule for the day.

Heero shook his head and headed for the engine bay, intending to peer through every compartment and cranny on the rig. He wanted to have it so thoroughly memorized that if his captain asked, Heero would be able to find him any single tool, right down to an errant screw, in under fifteen seconds.

Fate was not to let him relax, however.

The tones went off, and the second emergency of the day had them racing out the door.


	5. Chapter 4

A cardiac arrest, two accidents, one asthma attack, two automatic alarms, and one gasoline spill later, the two crews inhabiting Station 8 were seated around the dinner table happily munching their way through a late evening dinner of Duo's Famous Spaghetti and Meatballs.

"I still find it hard to believe that, not only can you cook, you can do it well, Duo," Quatre said with a grin.

"Hey... Just 'cause your family never took the time to teach you how to boil water doesn't mean everyone's like that, Mr. Winner," Duo retorted sarcastically.

"I think he just insulted your honor, Quatre. What are you going to do about it Trowa?" Zechs asked with what could only be called a mischievous smile.

Heero watched the exchange curiously, particularly interested in the sudden flush creeping up Quatre's cheeks, and the calm, dignified silence of Trowa.

"He can take care of himself. He's a big boy."

Duo started choking on a mouthful of garlic bread.

"Gee, Tro... I wouldn't know about that... After all, you've never offered to share," Duo leered.

Heero frowned. What the hell had he gotten himself into? Everyone here had been tossing innuendo around all day. Heero knew that firemen liked to joke around, and tended to be very close to their crewmates, but that close? It was getting a little thick in here!

Quatre, for his part, turned beet red and spluttered, choking on his milk.

"You've never shut up for a long enough stretch of time for us to offer, Duo."

Duo, struck speechless by Trowa's deadpanned reply, sat there, fork hovering over his plate, and mouth opening and closing over the words he couldn't speak.

Zechs couldn't prevent the soft chuckle from escaping him.

Heero was too much of a soldier to see the opening and not go for it.

"Besides... It's not their fault you don't pay attention in the shower. Obviously you're not that interested."

Silence descended over the kitchen. Everyone turned to stare, stunned, at Heero, who was still methodically plowing through his supper.

Heero glanced up to meet Trowa's eyes. He read the reply in the one, delicately arched eyebrow.

:_Good one. Very good. Although surprising, coming from you._:

Heero, being able to speak fluent silence himself, replied with his own eye quirk and quick glance at Duo.

:_Hey, I didn't put up with that maniac all day without getting a little of my own back, here._:

Trowa's eyes narrowed and he suppressed a small smile.

:_True. Too true._:

Quatre's laughter interrupted their silent conversation. Soon Quatre was joined by Zechs, and then, almost reluctantly, Trowa. Heero, unphased by their response, continued with his dinner, glancing up at the others with an almost innocent expression.

"Somebody get the HeartStart. I think I'm going to have an MI here... Heero Yuy, did you just crack a joke?" Duo gasped.

Heero was spared the requirement of a response, as if he even would have made one, by the squawking of the speaker."Engine 8, Medic 6, Respond to the corner of Washington and Veteran's Parkway for a one-vehicle 10-50. Two victims reported. Engine 12 and Medic 5 will also be responding."

Everyone had hopped to their feet as soon as the tones had gone off, and were halfway to the bay by the time they got their complete instructions.

"Damnit Duo! Every time you fix that spaghetti of yours, dinner gets interrupted. That's it. You can't cook anymore!" Zechs called as he started pulling his bunker gear on.

"Yeah, like it's MY fault. What about your notorious chili? I have yet to finish an uninterrupted bowl!"

"SUNOFABITCH!" Heero found himself exclaiming as he hopped into his gear.

Duo broke into merry laughter, and Zechs simply shook his head.

"Told you to check your boots, Heero," Zechs called, a small smile playing over his features as Heero stared down into his boots with disgust for a second.

"I'm gonna kill you, Duo," he muttered, shaking his feet as he finished pulling up his pants and trying desperately to ignore the cold slosh of the ankle deep water bathing his feet.

Quatre and Trowa, not having any cumbersome gear to hop into, missed the whole exchange, since they were already pulling away from the station with lights and sirens running hot. By the time they were half a block away, Duo was pulling Engine 8 out of the bay, and flipping on his own lights and sirens. The wail of the air-horn sang out into the darkness mournfully. The strobe lights washed the night from the street in awkward flashes; Heero found his stomach getting queasy as he watched the landscape speed past. Especially with Duo trying to break another land-speed record. He closed his eyes and leaned back into his seat, mentally reviewing all the equipment they would probably need.

Hurst tool for sure, and cribbing. Backboard, but Medic 6 would take care of that. Blankets, Sawzall, window punch, and maybe even a teddy bear. Depended on how old the victims were.

Guess they'd see when they got there. Heero debated pulling on a pair of latex gloves under his heavy fire gloves, but decided against it. They would be too hot, and would hamper his dexterity too much. He compromised by shoving a pair into the hip pocket of his bunker pants; if he needed them, they would take only a second or two to pull on.

Half a mile away, Medic 6 had pulled up to the scene and staged themselves close to the wreck, but not in the way of where Engine 8 would be parking. Within a few seconds, Duo had maneuvered Engine 8 into that vacant spot, leaving Heero and Zechs to spring out.

Before them, the dark bulk of what could only be some sort of SUV had smashed head first into one of those heavy-duty concrete abutments that anchored huge over-highway road signs. It looked like the passenger compartment was sitting right in front of the fourteen inch diameter pole, with very little of the whole engine compartment pinched around the concrete mound. That could only mean that most of the engine compartment, and the engine itself, was sitting in the vehicle's occupants' laps. If they had any laps left to speak of. From that kind of damage, Heero guessed that they were probably going at least 75 MPH when they hit the abutment. This was going to be messy.

"Hurst tool, Heero."

Already heading for the proper compartment, Heero merely grunted. Duo paused beside him , toggling on the floodlights and illuminating the scene.

Heero dragged the heavy Hurst generator over towards what was left of what had apparently been a bright yellow, late model Lincoln Navigator. Bright Yellow? They didn't even come in that color... which meant only one thing. Big Money. Heero shook his head as he headed back for the spreaders and the shears. By the time he had both the spreaders and shears hooked up and the generator running, Duo had pulled their front bumper booster line off and charged it. Zechs grabbed the shears and had Heero grab the spreaders.

In the background, Heero heard Engine 12 pull up and stage behind 8.

"Two patients. One male, driver, late twenties. Looks like bilateral femur fractures at lea#st. Plus he took the steering column in the chest. Second victim, female, passenger, mid twenties, claims to be six months pregnant, Altered mental Status, no seatbelt. Duo has the wheels chocked, Quatre is in the vehicle holding C-spine on the female, we can't get to the male yet. I'll cut the A poston the driver's side, you see if you can pop the hinges on that door."

Heero grunted an affirmative and waited for Zechs to get the post cut and step out of the way. A few seconds later, the spreaders had a firm bite in the gap between the front of the driver's door and the front quarter panel of the SUV and were inexorably spreading apart. A loud POP heralded the breaking of the top hinge. Heero closed the spreaders and shoved them into the gap below the bottom hinge. Zechs leaned his weight against the car door to keep it from springing back at them and hurting them when the last hinge gave. Heero jerked back as the spreaders lost their bite and bucked back against his leg fiercely. He growled in frustration as a sharp stab of pain raced up his leg, and then reset the spreaders. This time, he threw his weight into the tool, and was rewarded by another loud POP. The door fell away from the front of the vehicle.

Dropping the spreaders, Heero helped Zechs pry the door away from the SUV, stumbling a little awkwardly as it suddenly gave way. Heero turned and dropped the door over to the side out of their way.

Trowa took that moment to dive in and quickly assess the damage to the driver.

"Blunt chest trauma. Bilateral femur fractures, pelvis crepitous. I got a C-collar on him."

"Looks like we need to yank out the steering wheel... Heero, go grab the Come-along," Zechs instructed.

Heero returned, tossing one end of the chain to Zechs while he laid a few boards across what was left of the hood of the car to take the strain about to be put on it. Then he hooked the other end of the chain to the winch, and chained the winch to the remains of the front axel. Zechs had wrapped his end of the chain around the steering wheel and had covered the driver with a blanket to protect him from flying debris. With a nod from Zechs, Heero started pumping the winch handle, watching his captain carefully as the steering wheel slowly started to lever upwards, and then, with a loud SNAP, popped off at the joint. Zechs pushed it away and leaned in to examine the driver's legs.

"Looks like we have him free... We need a backboard."

Trowa immediately complied, handing Zechs the narrower end of the board. Zechs carefully wedged the board under the driver's thighs, pushing it as far as it would go without harming the victim. Trowa balanced the other end of the board across his hip, holding it steady and firm. Heero came around and helped Zechs slowly maneuver the driver's head and shoulders out of the car and into a lying position on the board. As Zechs held the man's head steady, Heero reached into the vehicle and slowly pulled the distressingly floppy legs of the driver out from the wreckage of the dashboard and carefully laid them down the length of the board balanced on the driver's seat.

Zechs moved out of the way as Trowa and Heero picked up the board and carried it, driver and all, to the waiting gurney a few feet away. Quatre materialized beside them.

"Medic 5 has the woman. They could use some help getting her out," he said to Heero and Zechs.

"We've got the guy. As soon as we get this gurney in the rig, we're outta here for the hospital," he continued.

Zechs nodded, backing off to let Trowa and Quatre do their job, and motioning for Heero to follow him over to the other side of the vehicle where Duo was fighting with the door.

"Heero... could you grab the shears and cut this damn hinge for me? I can't get it to pop," Duo asked.

Heero snatched the tool up from the roadway and complied, shearing through the metal in a few seconds. The door gave in to their efforts with a sudden BANG, dropping to the pavement and teetering on its side until someone from Engine 12 kicked it out of the way.

Examining the wreck for a moment, Heero quickly went to work cutting away the crimped remains of the front quarter panel. Meanwhile, Duo was using the spreaders to push as much of the dash away from the trapped and screaming woman as possible. When Heero had cut enough of the quarter panel away that he could see all of the woman's feet and legs, he went to work on the A post. Someone form Engine 12 had gotten out the Sawzall and was cutting the windshield, while Zechs kept the woman covered with a blanket to shield her from the flying glass and sparks.

The A post separated sharply; Heero scooted over and quickly cut the B post. Duo dodged out of his way as he went to the rear of the SUV and crimped the C post in a few spots, and then handed the Shears over to someone from Engine 12 to finish cutting the posts on the driver's side.

Less than a minute later, they had peeled back the entire roof, laying the vehicle open to the world, and freeing up a little more space.

Now that they could get to her, it was easy to carefully spin the woman around and lay her down on a backboard. Heero helped carry that backboard to another gurney, and then watched as the crew from Medic 5 loaded the gurney up into their rig and quickly sped away, light and sirens running hot.

The person from Engine 12 who'd taken the shears from him wandered over and handed them back.

"Thanks man. That was a big help," she said.

Heero nodded in response and looked around for his captain and his driver.

Duo had gone over and was bleeding the pressure off of the shears and spreaders, preparing to shut down the Hurst tool. Zechs was surveying the remains of the vehicle, making sure the battery cables were all cut and that there were no fluids leaking that weren't being dealt with by some hastily applied Oil Dry compound.

Heero wandered over to help Duo pack up the Hurst tool. The woman from 12 followed.

"Hey, Hotstuff. Long time no see," she called to Duo with a grin.

"Hilde! Whassup?"

Duo stood, leaving Heero to finish packing the tool up and get it loaded back onto Engine 8.

"Nada. New guy?" Hilde asked, jerking a thumb over at Heero.

"Yeah. Hilde, meet Heero. Heero, meet Hilde. She was in my class at the Academy."

"Hn."

"Charming," she replied sardonically.

"Ya, well, he's had to put up with me all day, right Heero?" Duo quipped with a grin.

"That's enough to drive a saint to murder," Hilde laughed.

Heero tossed an almost long-suffering sigh at her. Hilde laughed.

Heero stood and finished stowing the Hurst tool away, and then went back to the remains of the SUV to look for any other tools they'd used. He was amazed that anyone had lived through that wreck so far. There was nothing left of the dash. It had exploded into the passenger compartment with such force that the driver had been sitting ON the radio, and the contents of the glove box were strewn all over the extreme rear floor. The front seats were sitting back almost where the back seats would normally be, because the engine block was sitting where the front seats should have been. Blood liberally coated the expensive leather interior, almost hiding the contents of the vehicle.

A few papers lay scattered about the interior wreckage, spattered here and there with blood, water, and other fluids. An empty soda can peeked out from under what would have been the passenger's seat. A briefcase lay in the back seat, covered in shattered glass. The neck of some sort of bottle poked its head out from between the two front seats.

The neck of a bottle? Heero leaned in and peered at it. He didn't touch it, for fear of what it might be, but, rather, took a long sniff. The pungent aroma of whiskey assailed his nose.

Damn.

He backed out of the car and wandered up to where his captain was talking to the ranking police officer on the

glanced at him and then stopped mid sentence.

"What is it? Find something?" he asked, noting the expression on Heero's face.

"I think you should pay close attention to between the front seats," he replied.

With a nod, the cop walked over and peered into the wreck. He backed out a moment later, lips pursed and an angry scowl alighting his features.

Zechs peered at Heero curiously.

"Alcohol."

"Damn. Fools."

Heero didn't respond to that.

"Thanks for the tip, man. I'll make sure the hospital gets some blood tests," the police officer said to Heero as he walked back.

"Hn. I'll get the booster reloaded, if that's all right, sir?" Heero asked, glancing at Zechs.

His captain nodded and watched as Heero walked away, heading towards the front of their rig. This had been a very busy first day for his rookie. He hoped the young man was doing okay.

Heero wandered up to Engine 8 and cycled down the big pump, listening as the engine slowly revved down. Disengaging the flow of water to their booster hose, Heero shut down the pump, and then took the whole rig out of pump gear. Then he walked to the end of the hose and opened it up to bleed off the pressure. Once the water quit flowing, he uncoupled the nozzle and carried it back to the front bumper. He was careful to set the nozzle on the bumper in plain sight, where no one could miss it and drive away without reconnecting it, just in case Duo wandered up and distracted him from his self-appointed task.

Duo and distraction seemed to be redundant expressions. His eyes unerringly sought out Engine 8's driver where he stood talking to Hilde. For some reason, Heero found himself taking an instant dislike to the woman from Engine 12. Why? It should have been the other way around. Duo was the annoying one. All he had to do was wiggle his undoubtedly pruney toes to prove that. Damned bastard. He hated working in wet boots.

With a scowl, Heero walked out the length of the bumper hose, draining it of water before her started carefully loading it back into its cradle, one precise fold at a time. Duo managed to stay out of his way long enough for Heero to finish loading the hose, reattach the nozzle, and buckle the whole assembly in securely. The his luck ran out.

With a laugh that Heero was quickly realizing was trademark Duo, read annoying, loud, brash, and attention-grabbing, the driver sauntered over towards Heero, Hilde by his side, with their arms thrown over each other's shoulders. Heero throttled down the sharp stab of anger that seeing her so shamelessly fawning over him caused. What the hell did he care. They were classmates together.

:_So. None of YOUR classmates are like that with you,_: a cold voice in his head informed him testily.

:_Yeah, but that's because you're an arrogant, cold-hearted bastard,_: was the acerbic retort.

His mental debate was cut short when Duo's hand descended upon his shoulder with a hearty clap and a deep chuckle.

"And it turns out that I guess Captain Zechs even warned him! What a riot, ne Heero? How's the feet?" Duo leered.

Heero curbed the instant reflex to punch his driver only by dint of being a rookie. Eight more months. Only eight more months of this torture, then he could beat the living snot out of that braided idiot without fear of reprisal. Or at least without getting fired outright. He settled for gritting his teeth and glaring. That only served to set Duo off into a freshet of howls of laughter. While Duo was preoccupied learning how to breathe again, Hilde leaned in real close to Heero.

"He has a weakness for food. Hit him there, and you'll have him. There's a place across town, by the way, that sells novelty chocolates... Like in bug shapes and such," she whispered with a conspiratorial wink.

"Acknowledged," Heero murmured.

"Inhale, Duo. In with the good air. Out with the bad," Hilde cried, reaching down to help the collapsed heap of Duo on the ground. Heero shook his head and walked away, another idea forming in his head. He'd have to wait and see what kind of sleeper Duo was before he could implement it. And he'd need some... items to pull it off.

Zechs wandered up while he was preparing his mental checklist, and apparently read Heero's intent in the young man's expression.

"Just don't kill each other. That's all I ask," Zechs said with a sigh as he wandered past.

Heero's gaze darted up, eyes narrowing dangerously as he replied, "Mission accepted."

"Okay boys. If the toys are all put away, it's time to go home," Zechs called.

"I guess that means 12 stays here to baby-sit the wreck until the tow truck gets here?" Hilde asked, helping to pull Duo to his feet.

"Yes. Enjoy."

"Cool! Now we can go finish dinner!" Duo crowed.

Zechs groaned.

"Maxwell, only you could want to eat spaghetti after seeing a wreck like that."

Hilde's face scrunched up distastefully.

"The Famous Maxwell Spaghetti? Gross, Duo. Doesn't anything get to you?"

He tossed her a haughty glance as he climbed into the driver's seat and closed the door.

"When it comes to food, not much."

Duo missed the significant stare Hilde speared Heero with. Heero nodded slightly in answer as Engine 8 pulled away.

"Duo, I almost pity you. Almost," Hilde muttered, remembering her own station days with the notorious Duo Maxwell.

* * *

Notes  
[1] Automatic Alarm - All commercial businesses and apartment complexes are required by law to have some sort of fire alarm. Some places simply have something that goes off in a building warning everyone to get out. Other places pay to have their systems monitored by an outside agency, like Per Mar, AEC, George Alarm, Simplex, or any one of thousands of companies. These agencies will notify the appropriate authorities if any alarm goes off in a building they monitor. Nine times out of ten, when an automatic alarm comes in, it's simply somebody smoking a cigarette or burning food too close to a smoke detector. It could even be a malfunction of the alarm, or a child pulling one of those nifty little fire alarm pull stations... It's that tenth time out of ten that you have to be careful of.

[2] HeartStart - Any of you who have recently taken a CPR course should be familiar with an AED or an Automated External Defibulator. You hook this machine to anyone suspected of having heart difficulties, and it will tell you if you need to give the person a shock (as in "CLEAR! ZAP) or not, and if so, how big of one to do. They are pretty idiot proof, and are being put in places as innocuous as shopping malls and banks these days. HeartStart is simply one brand of AED. (The kind my rig carries, hence why I use it here. **gryn**)

[3] MI - Myocardial Infarction. It's a big, medical way of saying Heart Attack.

[4] 10-50 - Vehicular accident. Somewhere a car goed boom and bad things happened.

[5] Hurst Tool - Jaws of life and all that jazz. Hurst is actually just a brand of extrication tool. The 'Jaws of Life' are actually only ONE part of the whole extrication (read Hurst) tool. They are also known as the 'spreaders'. There are also shears and the ram included in that whole Hurst tool thing. Spreaders, of course spread things apart. Shears cut things... with a 15,000 PSI force... so cutting through doors is usually no problem. Ram is a longer distance version of the spreaders. It's kinda like a hydraulic piston... well, it actually IS a hydraulic piston. It can spread things up to three feet or so on it's own. If you add in cribbing, the distances can be much greater.

[6] Cribbing - big blocks o wood. Used to help stabilize cars, houses, tools... hell, anything that isn't secure and could be made secure by wedging big chunks o wood under or beside it. Yes, firetrucks carry big chunks o wood. **Gryn**

[7] Teddy Bear - yes. It's exactly what it sounds like. A stuffed bear. They are carried on all the firetrucks in my town to give to hysterical children to get their minds off of either their own injuries, or the injuries of their parents/friends/siblings/guardians.

[8] Booster line - typically, engines have a smaller line on a reel on either the front or rear bumper of the rig. This hose resembles a larger version of a garden hose and normally puts out no more than 50-75 GPM. Engine 8 has a front mounted Fire Booster, which resembles a smaller version of a standard fire hose and can put out about 100 GPM. It's easier to use and put away when finished with it, plus there is a shorter length to deal with to prevent cluttering up the wreck scene.

[9] Bilateral Femur Fractures - both legs are broken in the same spot, right across the femurs, or the big bone in the upper leg. This is bad. Very bad.(yes, that IS a technical term **gryn**) Heavy blood loss can result, as well as a host of other complications.

[10] Altered Mental Status - Is not conscious, alert, and oriented times three... which means, the person isn't awake, doesn't know what's going on, and cannot correctly answer who they are, where they are, and when they are. This is usually indicative of severe head trauma, or mental disability (either medical or psychological)

[11] C-spine - Cervical spine. When you get into a wreck, the first thing most people will be concerned with (once they establish that you have an airway, can breath, and your heart is still beating) is that you don't move your head and neck too much. This is to prevent spinal injuries. Physically holding someone's head so they cannot move it and hurt themselves is normally referred to as 'holding c-spine'.

#

[12] A Post - The post between the car body and the roof on most vehicles that is closest to the front of the car. The one right behind the front doors is the "B" post. The one in the back that makes up the frame for the rear window and annoyingly gets in your way when you are driving and trying to figure out if there is enough room in that lane beside you to switch over there or not is the "C" post. When removing the roof of a car, typically you cut the A and B post, crimp the C post, cut the windshield, and then fold the whole roof over the trunk of that car like a sardine lid. It's fun. You should try it sometime. **gryn**

[13] crepitous - bones grating against each other cos they're broke. It's really icky...

[14] Come-Along - a chain and winch system. Hook one end of the chain to what you want to move, and the other to the winch, pull winch handle a few times, and POP... what you want to move... moves.


	6. Chapter 5

He scowled at the article in the newspaper. A thin veil of rage burbled up from that dark place within him that the fire kept warm. How could he? How could anyone?

He had to try and throttle down the rage. Now wasn't the time. The time would come, but not right now.

But the article just screamed at him, blinding him in stark black and white. Some hotshot businessman, the one who'd plowed his SUV into a concrete abutment yesterday, had confessed in the hospital.

Confessed. As if anyone would forgive him for the unthinkable deed he tried to commit. For the damage he HAD committed.

The woman riding with him hadn't been his wife. She was his mistress. His pregnant mistress.

The woman had threatened to go public, apparently, unless he kept her financially happy. So he'd done the unthinkable, and in a fit of drunken stupidity, tried to kill the woman and her unborn child by slamming all three of them into that fateful wreck.

He'd seen the wreckage. Half the city had; it was a popular intersection. Or at least a well traveled one.

It amazed him that the firemen had been able to pull anyone from that twisted hulk alive, let alone all of them. Although, the woman had gotten an emergency C-section as soon as she got to the hospital. It was touch and go whether the baby would live.

But HE lived. HE was alive, and probably would be out on the street as soon as he was out of the hospital. His lawyers would see to that.

Where was the justice? Where would it be?

Simple. It wouldn't. Not unless someone stepped in and ensured it.

And the woman. She was just as much as fault about this as HE was. After all, SHE was the one who coveted another's husband. SHE knew. SHE had to.

The only one blameless was the child. Children were always blameless. Children deserved justice. They deserved more than they got.

How many homeless children did he see every day on his drive to work? How many did he pass starving on the streets? Who would offer them a home or the love that every child deserved?

Simple. No one. Not unless someone stepped in and helped them take what they deserved.

He could feel it in his heart. The child would die. The filthy bastard had won. And he'd be out on the streets in no time at all. He'd probably even keep his job.

Humanity was so terrible and wicked. Fickle, evil people. They worshiped a false god of greed.

The real God had spoken to him. It still spoke to him. The real God had given him the power, the duty, the obligation to cleanse the world.

He would bring that power to the world. He would save the world from its own greedy self. Somehow.

He'd already started.

He'd already started.

But now HE needed to be cleansed.

HER too. Both of them.

The child would die.

Tears trickled down his face, slowly carving tracks of his lost humanity down the smooth skin.

The child would die. There was nothing anyone could do.

No more children should die.

No more children WOULD die. He'd see to it. Somehow.

But first, he had to cleanse THEM. He would bring the fire to THEM.

He would bring justice to the child.

A mad giggle escaped his lips as he watched the match burn between his fingertips.

He would bring justice to the world!

* * *

A loud knocking at his apartment door broke Heero's attention away from his exercise regimen. He paused mid-sit-up and rolled to his feet fluidly, wiping his sweaty palms along the legs of his spandex shorts absently. He almost detoured to the bathroom to grab the shirt he'd discarded several hours before, but a second impatient knock disabused him of that notion.

_:Screw 'em. They can deal with me as-is or not at all. Who the hell could it be, anyway? It's almost ten o'clock...:_ he thought with irritation as he padded silently to the door and peered out the peephole.

Duo.

What the hell?

"Heero... I know you're in there. Answer the door..."

With a defeated sigh, Heero yanked open the door, frowning as the chill air of the hallway hit his bare chest. Duo stood there dressed in a form-fitting pair of stylish black jeans, and a skin-tight black Harley Davidson t-shirt. His hair was hanging low down his back in a comfortable braid, and a pair of dark sunglasses sat low on his nose.

"Yo! Whassup?" Duo said cheerfully, a manic grin plastered all over his face.

Heero blinked.

"Ya gonna invite me in, or what, man?"

"What do you want, Duo?"

"Yeah. Nice to see you too, partner. Geeze."

Heero leveled a deadly glare at the braided idiot and refused to move.

"I see you really are always as cheerful as you were at work. Damn. I'd hoped it was first day jitters. Well, that's what I'm here for!" Duo said, grinning.

Heero heaved a sigh, wondering what he was talking about.

"Have you been drinking?"

"Not yet. That's why I'm here," Duo replied, as if that explained everything.

Heero blinked.

"Well, ya gonna get dressed, or what? We don't have all night you know."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Geeze. Do I hafta spell it out for you?" Duo said, casting an exasperated glance towards the ceiling of the hall. Seeing Heero's non-reaction, he nodded to himself.

"Guess I do. The guys, Wufei, Trowa, Quatre, Zechs, and myself are taking you out to Jakes."

"Jakes?"

"Yeah. It's a bar downtown. One of Quatre's buddies owns it. All the firemen in town hang out there. So ya gonna get dressed, or what? They're already there, waitin' for us," Duo replied.

Heero blinked.

"It's real easy. You find a shirt and some pants and throw 'em on, toss on some socks and some shoes, grab your keys, walk out this door, lock it behind you, and we head outside. You do know what outside is, right? Well... go get a shirt or something. Course, you could always go just like that. I wouldn't care, but I figure you would."

Heero stared at Duo for another few moments before he sighed explosively and spun on his heel. He stalked down the hallway of his apartment, leaving Duo standing alone in the open doorway. Duo took that as an invitation and wandered in, shutting the door behind him.

He made himself at home, wandering throughout the living room and kitchen while Heero busied himself in the bathroom. With a chagrinned sigh, he noted the Confined Space Rescue article from the latest issue of Firehouse magazine spread open on the kitchen table. Duo frowned and started pawing his way through the piles of technical journals and scattering of reference papers from the National Fire Institute that were piled everywhere. Every counter surface and tabletop was covered with some sort of firefighting reference material, from the schematics of Engine 8, to articles on Hydraulic Ventilation, and everything in between.

Duo shook his head and wandered back out into the living room. There, it was all EMS information.

"Man, you got a death wish, or what? I mean, if you don't relax and take a break from all this studying once in a while, yer gonna burn yourself out!" Duo called.

"Hn."

Duo spun around, frightened by the incredibly near proximity of that quiet non-reply.

Heero stood in the doorway to the bedroom clad in nothing more than a towel, watching Duo nose through his ordered study materials like a curious six-year-old.

"Well, that's a step in he right direction. Yer clean. Now all ya hafta do is get some clothes on," Duo said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I didn't say I was going."

"Heh. You seem to think you have a choice in the matter," Duo chuckled, "Well, ya don't. Your captain is awaiting your presence, Yuy. And if we don't hurry up, he's gonna fry BOTH our asses."

Heero scowled. He turned angrily, whipping the towel off of his hips and stalking into the bedroom in the same fluid motion.

Duo sighed. Damn. That guy was good. All that towel whipping around and not even the barest flash of skin. He shook his head and went back to examining Heero's spartan apartment.

A small desk stood opposite the bedroom door, adorned only with a laptop computer. The couch and table that were liberally covered with EMS journals and papers were the only furnishings in the living room. The kitchen had only held the small table with its load of firefighting information, and a few appliances. Other than all of the magazines, books, and papers scattered around the tables and chairs, everything else was immaculately clean.

"Do you have a life outside the job, man?"

His only answer was silence. Not that he really expected an answer, but it would have been nice. He sighed again, turning to watch the shadowed form of Heero in his bedroom, shrugging into fresh clothing.

After a moment, Heero returned to the living room clad in a comfortably broken in pair of light blue jeans, black bikers boot's, and a white t-shirt.

"Very James Dean. It'll do," Duo said with a mischievous smirk.

Heero shook his head and opened a nearby closet to pull out a black leather jacket.

"Ohyeah! That's what it needed! Okay. Let's go."

With the sigh of a death row inmate, Heero trudged out of the apartment after Duo and followed him to the parking garage below.

"Hop on," Duo instructed, climbing onto a vintage Harley Fat Boy parked in a row of other motorcycles.

Heero shook his head.

"I'll meet you there. I know where it is."

"Yer not driving there in that truck, man. There won't be any place to park it," Duo said, patting the seat behind him, "Hop on."

"No. I'm not driving the truck."

With something that would have been a smirk on a lesser man, Heero turned to a flashy white Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle and climbed on. With a humming roar, the bike leapt to life and peeled out of its slot. Without a backwards glance, Heero sped out of the garage, leaving Duo sitting behind in a cloud of Heero's own tire smoke.

"Well, I'll be damned. Sneaky little bastard," Duo muttered, starting his Harley with a grumbling growl and racing off after the Japanese man.

* * *

A loud thump and a muffled groan woke Heero from his restless slumber. He rolled over and pulled on his t-shirt before he quietly slipped out of his bedroom. He paused at the doorway to observe the young man blissfully snoring in his living room.

Duo lay sprawled in a heap on the floor beside the couch, tangled amidst a knot of sheets and blankets. He had an arm thrown over his face, blocking out the morning light, and one leg stuck straight up in the air, draped over one of the cushions that were still on the couch. The rest of the cushions lay in the tangled heap of man, bedding, and clothing. His hair had half come out of its customary braid and fanned out over the floor and pillows. A splash of early morning sunshine peeked through the curtains to bathe the chestnut locks in a pool of gold.

Duo shifted again in his sleep, his arm coming down to curl under his body and cradle his cheek. He snuggled into the nest of blankets he'd collapsed in and smiled sweetly.

Heero felt his chest tighten suddenly.

Without quite knowing how he got there, he found himself kneeling on the floor beside Duo's head, fingers tentatively brushing through the loose strands of Duo's hair. It was so much softer than he'd imagined. Like silk. No. Even better than silk.

He suddenly stood, lurching across the room and staring down at his hand in morbid fascination.

What the hell was going on? Why had he done that?

For that matter, why had he let Duo talk him into going on that disastrous bar trip last night in the first place? The bar trip that led to the Tequila shots... that led to the karaoke incident... that led to the brawl... that led to the off-duty cop drunkenly tossing empty bottles at Duo's head...

Heero's gaze unerringly zoomed into the knot still visible on Duo's forehead from the One That Didn't Miss.

That's why he was sprawled out on Heero's floor, sleeping off his drunk.

Of course that didn't explain why Heero's shorts were suddenly too tight on him, or why he couldn't seem to draw a full breath.

He growled low in his throat and stumbled towards the bathroom.

* * *

One very cold shower later found him back in total control. At least of his raging hormones. His mind, however, was another story altogether.

_:Unacceptable. That kind of distraction and reaction is totally unacceptable. I must be stronger than that. I cannot afford that kind of weakness:_

He exited the bathroom, fully intending to wake Duo up and kick him out to find someplace else to finish sleeping off his drunk.

Duo had managed to throw every one of the blankets off of himself and had curled into a tight little ball on the floor, shivering lightly. His face was pinched painfully, and a soft whimper fluttered up from his throat.

Heero frowned, crossing the distance between the two of them with two brisk strides. He knelt beside Engine 8's driver and laid a hand on Duo's shoulder, trying to shake him lightly awake.

With a keening moan, Duo shuddered away from the contact, pulling into himself even tighter.

"Duo. Duo, wake up... Just a dream, Duo... Wake up," Heero soothed.

At the sound of Heero's voice, Duo sighed softly and relaxed, uncurling from his tight coil. There were deep shadows under his eyes, and the morning light glared across his face, illuminating the ugly deep black and red bruise that had blossomed on his head. While it looked a lot better than it had last night when Heero had cleaned the gash out, it still appeared frighteningly painful. Heero shook his head to himself as he carefully drew the blankets up over the sleeping man once more.

He'd let him sleep until he finished his morning exercises, and then he'd wake the braided baka up and kick him out. Yeah. That would work.

Well, since Duo was sprawled all over his normal work out area, he headed to his bedroom. No sense in tripping over the slumbering madman.

With his typical intense focus, he tuned out the world and concentrated on his exercises.

* * *

A screaming lance of pain to the center of his brain was the first indication he got that, yes, he had survived last night. Not that he'd really wanted to, if living with this hangover was his reward, but he didn't have much choice in the matter anymore.

He slowly opened his eyes, wincing as morning sunlight washed over him in a golden flood.

Sunlight? What the hell... He kept his bedroom dark as a tomb. That could only mean one thing.

He wasn't in his bedroom.

If there were a god at all, this would only mean that he'd collapsed in the living room or something. His living room. Oh please let this be his own living room...

He forced his eyes to open long enough to absorb the dull grey carpeting.

Grey? But his carpets were blue. And pile, not Berber.

Shit. There was no god.

Time to take an inventory. Except for his boots, he was still pretty much fully clothed. That was a good sign. He was also wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and cushions. That was also a good sign.

The knot and gash on his head, however, was not a good sign.

What the hell had happened?

He remembered that he was supposed to go to Jakes last night. With the guys. The guys and... someone. Who?

Oh yeah. Heero.

Mr. Perfection. The rookie.

Well, given the pasty taste in his mouth, and the raging headache, he must have made it to the bar. Then what?

The vaguest memory of someone dancing around with one of those plastic promotional beer company buckets on his head floated through his fogged brain. He wanted to giggle at the thought, until he realized that the memory was from the first person perspective.

Aw shit.

Heero saw him dancing to the Macarena with a plastic beer bucket on his head.

There really was NO god at all.

But that still didn't explain the damage to his head. With a hefty sigh, he hauled himself into a sitting position and gently probed the wound with exploratory fingers. Not too large. That was good. Blood had been cleaned off. That was even better. Well, maybe. Maybe not. Who'd done the cleaning? Please don't let it have been...

/"Baka. Trying to get yourself killed?" Heero asked tersely. "No' m' fault... He didn' hafta get so mad..." "Duo. You serenaded him with 'You've Lost That Loving Feeling.' How was he supposed to react?" Heero explained with uncharacteristic patience. The deft fingers of one hand were carefully cleaning out the gash, while the other arm busied itself with keeping Duo from slumping over sideways on the couch./

Duo buried his face in his hands.

Okay. There really was a god. And he had one fucking sadistic sense of humor. The bastard.

How would he ever live this down?

"Guess you got your revenge for the boots, eh?" Duo murmured to himself.

The boots and anything else Duo may have had planned for the next month. How humiliating.

To not only have been out-drunk by a rookie... but to have had that selfsame rookie haul him out of a nasty brawl, and then bring him home and tuck him into bed like some lightweight hippy teenybopper? How utterly mortifying.

Well, if anybody was going to pull that off, it WOULD be Mr. Perfection.

Duo frantically sifted through what he could remember from last night, ordering his thoughts as he searched for one memory in particular. When he didn't find it, he heaved a sigh of relief.

Maybe there really truly was a kind and benevolent god.

_:If I'd actually broken down and confessed how sexy he looked last night to his face, I think I'd just have to go jump out that window right now... :_

With a fatalistic sigh, he hauled himself to his feet, proud when he wavered only a little bit.

Coffee. Must find coffee. Coffee fix head. Ugh.

Leaving the tumble of blankets behind, he trudged off to the kitchen and started his search. He wasn't terribly surprised when the freezer turned up to be a bust.

Why in the world would Mr. Perfection waste resources on good coffee when just about any supermarket brand would do? Duo hung his head and started poking through the cupboards. He was rewarded a few moments later with a small dented can of some off brand coffee. Real. Not instant. That was one small blessing at least. The day was slowly looking up.

And there was even a battered old coffee maker sitting forlornly on the counter. Okay. Maybe waking up wasnt suc'h a waste after all.

After thoroughly cleaning out the pot, he set up the machine to brew some liquid life, and then trudged back into the living room to set the couch back to rights.

That's when he noticed all of Heero's EMS journals and magazines had been neatly stowed and set aside.

_:Wow... I rated above his training stuff? Damn. Either he's not the stone faced jerk I took him for, or- or he's just banking my guilt and I'm NEVER going to live this down...:_

_:I should just shoot myself now. I'm never gonna live this down,:_ he thought to himself with an aggrieved sigh.

Returning to the kitchen, he snagged a mug out of the cupboard and, not bothering to wait for the pot to finish brewing, poured himself a cup. The pungent aroma of extra strong coffee accompanied the sizzle/hiss of liquid hitting the coffeemaker's hot plate before Duo could get the pot back in place.

He didn't bother looking for sugar. He was certain he'd never find any here.

Draining half the mug in a single gulp, he sat down and waited for the caffeine to kick in a little. A slight slacking of the headache, and a very faint shiver along his spine were the only signs he got. Well, that was better than nothing. He finished up the first cup and returned for a second.

Now he was ready to really deal with the day.

He looked around, rather surprised that he hadn't been rousted out before now. Where was Heero, anyway? He just didn't seem the "sleeping in on his day off" type.

Mug in hand, Duo stood and tip toed to the door to Heero's bedroom.

Yup. He was right.

Duo was treated to the sight of Heero doing knuckle push ups in nothing more than a pair of incredibly tight black spandex shorts, and that body hugging white t-shirt he'd worn last night.

The drenched-with-sweat-and-damn-near-transparent body hugging white t-shirt.

God had to be a woman. Only a woman could torment someone this cruelly.

Ah well. May as well live it up while he could. After all, once Heero realized that Duo was awake and started laying into him about last night, Duo would have an appointment with an open window from a tall building.

Live fast. Die young. Leave a cute corpse.

Duo leaned against the door, sipped his coffee, and enjoyed the view.

* * *

The scent of coffee slowly started to invade his senses, drawing his mind out of the comforting haze of his exertions. He suddenly stopped mid-push-up and glanced towards the doorway.

Duo stood, leaning against the doorjamb with a steaming mug in one hand and a curious, almost bemused, expression on his face.

"Morning. Coffee?" he asked.

Heero shook his head sharply, a frown creasing his brow. Why hadn't he heard Duo get up?

He hopped swiftly to his feet and grabbed a towel from the bed. Draping it over his neck to soak up some of the sweat pooling there, he turned back to face Duo.

"Umm... Thanks. For not leaving me there, I mean," Duo said uncomfortably.

Heero's eyes darted up to the knot on Duo's head before he nodded curtly.

"You didn't have to bring me here. Sorry I intruded. Why didn't you just drop me off at my own place?"

"You were too drunk to tell me where you lived."

Duo winced to himself.

Heero suppressed a smirk. Had Duo been 100%, he might have noticed it. Of course, had Duo been 100%, he wouldn't have been standing in Heero Yuy's apartment in his stocking feet with his hair revolting from its braid, nursing a cup of triple strength coffee and trying to ignore his raging hormones.

Heero pushed past Duo and stalked into his kitchen, leaving the other man to follow in his wake. He grabbed another mug from the cabinet and started to pour a cup of coffee. As the liquid splashed into the cup he paused and stared down into the mug suspiciously.

"What? I didn't poison it. I swear," Duo assured him.

"It's opaque."

"Oh. Yeah. Um... I like it kinda strong first thing in the morning..."

Heero tested it with a tiny sip. His jaw clenched and his eyes grew wide. Swallowing hard, he poured just a little bit more into the mug and then filled it the rest of the way with plain water. He tested it again, took a large swallow, and then refilled the cup with more plain water. He nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned back to Duo.

"So... um... Yeah," Duo said, scuffing one shoeless foot nervously.

Heero shook his head.

"I 'spose I should like call a cab or something and go get my bike..."

"It's downstairs in the parking ramp."

Duo glanced at Heero sharply.

"Where's yours?"

"Downstairs."

"How-"

"I went back to get yours after you collapsed on my couch."

"Oh. Um... Thanks. Thanks for not leaving it there to get trashed... Me too."

Heero shrugged.

"Someone has to drive the rig."

"Oh."

Heero frowned to himself. His eyes zoomed in on Duo's slightly pouting lips as the braided man sighed.

Not good. He couldn't afford to get distracted. He didn't spend all morning trying to wear himself out to get distracted now. He had to get out. Now. Before his body betrayed him.

Heero slammed back the rest of his coffee and set the mug in the sink. Pushing past Duo, he headed back to his bedroom and stripped out of his sweaty shirt. Tossing it into the hamper, he grabbed his green tank top and pulled it on.

"Where ya going?"

"For a run."

Yes. A run. Perfect. It would be the perfect outlet for his tension.

"Want some company? I could use a good jog myself."

Company? Did he want company? Hell no!

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No!

Oh hell.

A run would be a good way to gauge Duo's physical abilities. Heero had to know how much he could count on the other man after all.

Yeah. That was it.

_:Oh shut up. You aren't fooling anyone.:_

"You aren't exactly dressed for it..." He temporized.

"I've got some spare clothes in the side packs on my bike... It'd only take me a second."

"Think you can handle it? You got pretty smashed last night."

Duo laughed.

"Man, that's WHY I wanna go. Need to get myself moving before I fall over again..."

Heero shrugged.

"Fine."

"Great. I'll be right back," Duo said, setting his coffee down on the table and heading for the door.

"Shoes?"

"Heh. I'll just hafta take em off again to get dressed anyway. Be right back."

The door clicked shut.

Damn.

He gritted his teeth and growled to himself.

Now what was he supposed to do?


	7. Chapter 6

"Well, hello, Quatre," a pleasant male tenor said smoothly, causing the young man to turn around in mid-step to glance at the speaker.

"Dr. Browning! Hello. How are you this morning?" Quatre asked pleasantly, waiting politely as the middle-aged doctor set down his charts at the Emergency Department nurse's station and walked over to talk to him.

"Oh, not bad. Not bad at all. How is the family? I haven't seen Iria since she returned to New York after your father's funeral. Is the 'Big Apple' agreeing with her?"

"Quite well. She's really enjoying her work there."

Dr. Browning gave a slight chuckle, his fingers gracefully massaging the bridge of his nose under his glasses in a gesture that Quatre had long ago identified as an unconscious comfort measure.

"I never would have guessed that sweet young lady to have the makings of a Shock Trauma Surgeon."

"She tells me that it's the best way to help the most people. I think that's why she ended up in New York. She sees the most action there," Quatre replied diffidently.

"Yes, I'm sure. The two of you are so alike, young man. You look like hell. When is the last time you had any decent rest? Isn't Trowa taking care of you?"

"Hmm... Isn't that like the pot calling the kettle black, Dr. Browning? How many traumas did you have last night?" Quatre asked, crossing his arms and tapping his foot in a classic sign of impatient over-protectiveness.

Dr. Browning held up his hands in surrender, his expression both strained with exhaustion and open and easy with a tired chuckle.

"Ah, Quatre. You are such a breath of fresh air after last night. Nine major traumas in six hours, as well as the usual host of Full Moon madness."

"And who's not taking care of himself?" Quatre asked tartly, a smile softening the question.

"Yes. Who? Ah well. I was just on my way to the lounge for a cup of tea. I imagine, since I didn't see you in here last night, that you work today, yes?" the doctor asked, taking in Quatre's Paramedic uniform with an appraising eye.

Quatre nodded.

"Oh well. I was hoping I could tempt you into sharing a cup of tea with an old man, but I suppose you'll want to go check on everyone you brought in the last day you worked before you race hell-for-leather to work," Dr. Browning said, a knowing smile gracing his features.

Quatre simply smiled in answer.

"As I said, Quatre. You are a such a breath of fresh air. I wish all of the Paramedics we had were as dedicated to the well-being of their patients, and as caring as you. Although, I am surprised that Trowa isn't with you this morning... Is everything all right?"

"Oh yes. Catherine has just been concerned. He stayed with her the last few nights. With her baby due, and all this recent crime, she's been so restless. Trowa was afraid she might fret the baby into a premature delivery. Everything's fine."

"Oh good. Well. I should let you get on with your 'rounds'," Dr. Browning said with a smile, "And I shall go get that tea."

"And then go home and get some rest?" Quatre asked.

"Yes, of course. I am so glad you chose me as your mentor, Quatre. You are such a caring young lad, to nag this old doctor into taking care of himself."

"Someone has to, Dr. Browning. I'll give Trowa your regards."

"Thank you, Quatre. And let us hope for an uneventful day, yes?"

Quatre nodded with a smile before he turned and headed for the elevator.

Dr. Browning watched the young Paramedic enter the elevator on his way to fulfill his morning ritual. Such an amazingly empathic young man. He and his partner were the only Paramedics he knew of that actually followed up on their patients. It really was a shame that no on else had that kind of dedication.

Dr. Browning smiled as he slipped off to the lounge for his tea and a quick nap. He was so lucky to have mentored the young man.

He only wished Quatre could understand what a wonderful impact the young man had on the world around him.

* * *

"How were they?" the quiet voice asked from behind Quatre as he examined all of the IV bags to make sure they weren't out-dated.

He smiled, his heart doing a little flutter skip in his chest at the sound of that gentle voice.

"They'll live. The baby isn't looking so good, though. The doctors aren't very hopeful," he replied, tucking the last IV back into it's little cabinet on the wall of the ambulance and backing out.

Trowa reached up and caught the shorter blonde as he hopped down from the rig, a small smile hovering in his eyes, despite the stoic expression.

"Hn. I'm sorry I couldn't go with you."

"Don't be. Catherine needs you right now. She'll hurt the baby if she keeps worrying herself so much. I don't mind sharing her brother with her," Quatre replied, reaching up to wrap Trowa into a firm embrace.

"Besides," he continued with a playful twinkle in his aquamarine eyes, "I have you all to myself for the next 24 hours."

"Well... You and every fruitcake, nutball, and drunken freak on this side of town," a bright voice commented brashly from the direction of Engine 8.

"Good morning, Duo," Quatre replied, not even bothering to turn around.

Trowa nodded to the engine's driver as he did his morning check of the rig. Heero was already checking over all of the EMS equipment with silent efficiency.

"How's the head, Duo?" Quatre asked innocently, knowing that Duo had already been pretty well plastered by the time Quatre had called it quits at Jakes two nights ago.

"Ugh. Don't remind me. I think I'm STILL hung over. Thank god SOMEBODY from this station has some sense of team solidarity, otherwise I'd probably be picking myself out of the gutter right now," Duo quipped, tossing a grin at Heero.

Who chose to ignore him.

Trowa had to duck his head a little to hide the smirk tickling his lips. Quatre, for his part, bit the edge of his hand to stifle his giggle.

"But, hey... I guess getting to see me that drunk makes us even for the boots, huh, Heero?" Duo grinned, toggling on the emergency lights and walking around the rig to make sure they were all working. He was out of line-of-sight and earshot when Heero ducked out of the rig and tossed a calculating glare towards Duo.

"Hn. You'll know when we're even, Maxwell."

Trowa's eyebrow shot into his hairline as he regarded the Japanese firefighter. He found himself hoping for a busy day. That way, maybe they could be out of the blast radius when Heero sprung his... whatever.

"Trowa? Are you wishing for a busy day too?" Quatre whispered up to his partner.

"You read my mind."

"No I didn't. I just have a few working brain cells, and a healthy dose of self-preservation instinct. This is going to be bloody."

Trowa's arms tightened around the shorter blonde as the two firemen finished checking over Engine 8 and headed to the kitchen.

Duo raced past Heero, slapping him firmly across the back with a comradely clout. Or at least that's what it was supposed to seem like.

As Heero reached back and removed the "Mr. Grouchy Pants" sign from his back, Trowa couldn't help but agree with his partner.

* * *

"So what's on the training schedule for today, Cap'n?" Duo chirped, plopping into the abused kitchen chair with a solid THUD.

"There's no training on Sunday, Duo... Or are you still too drunk to remember what day it is?" Zechs asked patiently.

"Whoops. Forgot. Heh. So we're off the hook then?"

"Once morning chores are taken care of," Zechs replied, sipping slowly at his coffee.

"Sugoi! I'll do the floors, Heero. You grab the bathroom."

Heero nodded sharply, already heading for the cleaning supplies out in the bay. As he slipped into the bay, he paused, blinking in surprise at the sight that greeted him.

Quatre and Trowa were caught up in a tight embrace, complete with a fierce lip-lock.

So all that innuendo hadn't just been for comedy's sake.

He shrugged, undaunted, and then grabbed the cleaning supplies before slipping back out of the bay as quietly as he'd arrived.

* * *

Trowa pulled away from Quatre as the shorter blonde started to giggle a little.

"What?"

Quatre's eyes were filling with tears of mirth, and he struggled to regain his composure.

"Oh dear," he finally managed to gasp.

"What?" Trowa repeated patiently.

"He- Heero... I- I don't think... he was quite- quite expecting to see... what he saw, just now," Quatre gasped between chuckles as he wiped the moisture out of his eyes.

Trowa's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Hn. Then perhaps we should spare him the strain," Trowa replied, lifting Quatre up into the back of the ambulance.

"Trowa! What-"

The taller man silenced his partner, lifting one slender finger to the blonde's lips gently.

"It's Sunday," he explained.

Quatre's eyes lit up, his expression growing playful and wicked all at once.

"It is, isn't it," he replied, taking the collar of Trowa's uniform shirt in his small fist and pulling the taller man towards him.

Trowa allowed himself to be dragged into the back of the ambulance, sparing the briefest of moments to shut the doors behind him with a quiet slam.

And then, as the short blonde's hands started working their way below his shirt, he gave up his cognitive reasoning abilities.

* * *

Heero finished with the bathroom in less than ten minutes. He frowned at his inefficiency. As he gathered up the cleaning supplies and started to head back to the bay to return them, Duo arrived with the mop to finish up the floors.

"I wouldn't go out there if I were you," Duo said conversationally.

Heero turned and speared the driver with a quick look that would have been one of curiosity on anyone else.

"It's Sunday," Duo said, as if that should explain everything.

Heero sighed impatiently.

"Sunday's our day to unwind and relax... No training, no major responsibilities, other than the normal assortment of calls. Trowa and Quatre usually take advantage of the peace and quiet..."

"Hn."

"Hey... don't say I didn't warn you then," Duo replied, smirking.

Heero's eyes narrowed dangerously as he turned to glare at Engine 8's driver.

"What's the matter, Maxwell? Does the thought of a pair of grown men screwing like minks bother you?" he asked, voice low and dangerous.

Duo blinked, clearly not expecting THAT reaction from the normally taciturn rookie. And then the question finally seemed to sink into the driver's brain. A sunny grin broke out over his features, and a mirthful chuckle burbled from his lips.

"Bother me? Heh! If it did, I sure as hell wouldn't still be at THIS station, Yuy... What about you?" Duo asked, his expression daring the Japanese man to answer the way his own hormones wanted him to.

Heero simply turned on his heel and strode, completely unconcerned, into the truck bay.

"Well, I'll be damned," Duo muttered under his breath, a wicked little smile breaking over his face.

* * *

Trowa gasped as Quatre's talented hands finished unbuttoning his uniform shirt and pushed it off of his shoulders, intentionally trailing his fingers over the taller man's sensitive flesh teasingly.

Quatre smiled up at his normally quiet partner before pushing him down to sit on the edge of the gurney.

"I've missed you," Quatre murmured, his mouth wandering over the flushed skin of Trowa's throat, lapping at the firm pulse there.

"Hn..."

"It's been so lonely without you being home," he continued, his hands massaging the ridge of Trowa's spine, sliding lower to delve into the back of Trowa's pants.

Trowa's hands came up, cradling Quatre's face, finger's splayed in the blonde man's hair, and thumbs gently massaging Quatre's lips.

Quatre's tongue darted out, flicking across the calloused skin, drawing one thumb into his mouth enticingly and suckling at it gently. His teeth grazed softly against the pad of Trowa's thumb, tongue dancing along the back of the first knuckle in tantalizing patterns.

Trowa groaned silently, reveling in the feel of Quatre's talented mouth on any part of his body. His grip unconsciously tightened on the smaller man's head, fingers flexing and running through Quatre's hair.

Quatre smiled, his hands wandering back up Trowa's spine, up to his ribs, and sliding around to the front of Trowa's body. His slender fingers flexed and gripped, working at Trowa's tense muscles as he slowly slid his hands down past Trowa's stomach and paused at the buckle of the taller man's belt.

Trowa's eyes shut quickly as he concentrated on keeping his breathing slow and steady.

But it really had been a long week, staying with his sister, rather than his lover.

Quatre distracted him by leaning in for a deep kiss, his tongue sparring with Trowa's for dominance.

Quatre eventually won, of course, and in the meantime, had managed to get Trowa's uniform pants unbelted and unsnapped. The smaller man's hands were busily working their way between Trowa's flesh and the cloth of his clothing.

As Quatre gently pushed Trowa the rest of the way down onto the gurney, Trowa kicked off his shoes, thankful yet again that he'd opted for low-cut work shoes, rather than high-topped boots.

Quatre caught the movement out of the corner of his eyes and chuckled wickedly. He maneuvered Trowa until the taller man was lying stretched out on the gurney below him.

"Very lonely," he whispered, climbing on top to straddle Trowa's hips.

Trowa nodded his agreement and went to work on Quatre's clothes.

Quatre shifted position, allowing Trowa to peel his clothing from his overheating body as he leaned down to feast on Trowa's sweat slicked chest. He lapped at the skin, nipping playfully at the firm nubbin of flesh he found while one hand flicked the other pouting nipple into attention.

Trowa groaned and squirmed beneath him, grinding his hips against Quatre's in a silent plea.

Quatre dropped a few apologetic kisses upon Trowa's chest, his hands smoothing down Trowa's sides and fingers massaging soothingly at the taller man's ribs. When Trowa had relaxed into his ministrations again, Quatre quickly peeled the rest of Trowa's clothing from him, dropping them to the floor of the ambulance.

Trowa shuddered a little as the cool air of the rig hit his flushed skin. Quatre leaned down again and reclaimed his mouth in a fierce kiss, almost bruising in its intensity.

While he busied his lips with Trowa's mouth, Quatre's hands were quickly fumbling to his left side, flipping open the Intubation Kit and searching by touch for the KY.

He broke off the kiss with a sigh of triumph as his fingers encountered the correct tube, and he withdrew it from the kit.

Below him, Trowa's eyes were half-lidded with almost drowsy pleasure from the intensity of that kiss. Quatre smiled down at his lover languidly.

He reached down between their bodies and firmly grasped Trowa's hardened shaft, making the taller man groan in atavistic pleasure.

"Bet I won't be lonely tonight," Quatre murmured into Trowa's lips.

Trowa tried to stifle the moan that was threatening to leap from his throat as Quatre stroked him tightly. All he managed to do was make it throatier. His eyes shuttered closed again, and his jaw clenched.

Quatre thumbed open the tube easily, so used to the maneuver that it was second nature to do one handed. With an equally deft flick of his fingers, he squeezed out a dollop and worked it onto that hand.

Trowa groaned in frustration as Quatre drew away enough to shift his position. His hands reached out, seeking the smaller man and settling him against his raised legs, taking Quatre's weight.

Quatre smiled, returning his talented hand to Trowa's firm shaft while the other hand snaked down to probe gently at the sensitive ring of puckered flesh he so desperately wanted access to.

Trowa gasped in pain and anticipation as he felt the first finger enter him. He struggled to slow down his breathing and relax his body to the intrusion.

Quatre slid a second finger in, stretching him slowly before he slid the third finger in and probed for that special spot that would drive Trowa over the edge.

He was rewarded after a moment when Trowa gasped suddenly and arched into his hand, hips snapping against his probing digits.

With a feral smile that seemed so incongruous on the normally sweet little blonde's face, Quatre withdrew his fingers and quickly slathered his own aching member with a fresh dollop of KY.

Trowa whimpered below him, hands reaching up to grasp Quatre's shoulders and pull him closer.

Quatre caught up his lover's hands, holding them firmly in his grip as he leaned down and pushed into Trowa slowly.

Trowa's breath exploded from him in a hiss, his face clenched in a mix of purest pleasure and faint pain. Until Quatre thrust forward and hit that spot within him once more, and then the pain vanished in a wave of sweet bliss.

His head rolled back, thrashing against the gurney's pillow as Quatre thrust into him, slowly. He slowly built up the pace and strength, reveling in the soft, throaty moans that Trowa couldn't seem to prevent escaping from himself.

Trowa's breath hitched in his lungs as he felt the heat building within him. It started in the pit of his stomach, and gathered, thrusting up through his body, overtaking his heart and his lungs, rushing up his throat, and screaming over his mind. As it erupted over his senses, he vaguely felt himself explode within Quatre's grip, and his body seized up, every muscle tensing against the rush of heat.

Quatre felt his lover clench below him, the achingly tight heat enveloping him suddenly gripping him in completion. Unable to hold out against that exquisite torment, he let himself fall into his own wave of pleasure, releasing his seed deep within Trowa with a strangled shout.

As sense returned to him, his strength seeped away, leaving him spent and drained.

Trowa reached up, supporting him as he drew the shorter man down against his chest.

Quatre sighed deeply in contentment and snuggled against Trowa's flushed body.

"Cathy said she could do without me tomorrow, too," Trowa murmured, his voice low and satiated.

Quatre laughed delightedly.

"Good. I went shopping yesterday and got us some fresh strawberries and cream," he whispered playfully.

"Hn."

Quatre heard the unspoken eager anticipation in that monosyllable reply and smiled wickedly. He'd save the chocolate body paint as a surprise.

* * *

Duo was just putting the final touches on brunch when the back door opened quietly and Wufei slipped in.

"Wu-man! Wasn't sure if you were still gonna join us or not. Big man in Investigations and all that, ya know," Duo said, grinning.

"Wufei. Wufei. How many times do I have to tell you, Maxwell?"

Heero glanced up at Wufei as the Asian man set several VHS tapes on top of the TV beside the door.

"Until you accompany it with a Louisville Slugger," he replied, shooting a small glare at the braided maniac giggling at the stove.

"Good point," Wufei agreed.

Zechs walked out of the bedroom glancing around the kitchen absently. At least until he noticed Wufei standing hesitantly beside the door.

"Wufei," he murmured, inclining his head towards the man in question while a tender little smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"Captain," Wufei replied in kind, eyes warming.

"Okay, okay... enough! I'm drowning here!" Duo called, sighing at the two men with exasperation.

"We could only be so lucky," Heero muttered.

Wufei smirked as Duo spun and threatened the Japanese man with a ladle.

"Who lit the fuse on your tampon, Yuy?" Duo demanded.

"Probably the same man who crashed on my living room floor in a drooling pile of blankets and hair two nights ago."

"Yah yah yah... So I got drunk and passed out. Big deal. Like you've never gotten drunk before," Duo muttered, slopping the last of the gravy into a bowl and depositing it on the table.

"Actually-"

"Don't even. Just don't even go there, Mr. Perfect," Duo said, interrupting Heero with a dangerous grimace, "SOUP'S ON!" he yelled, clearly wishing to end the conversation.

Trowa and Quatre sauntered in from the bay and pulled up chairs at the table. Zechs grabbed the extra chair from the office and made a space next to himself for Wufei. Heero set the manual he was reading aside and helped Duo bring the rest of the dishes to the table, and then the two plopped into the last two empty seats.

"So what movie didja bring us, Wu-man?" Duo asked as he heaped bacon, eggs, and biscuits and gravy onto his plate in astonishing quantities.

"Romeo Must Die."

"Aw... another kung fu flick?" Duo griped.

"Sorry, Duo... Next time I'll make sure and bring in a Telletubbies tape for you. That should be more up your alley," Wufei replied smoothly as he filled his own plate.

Duo shuddered violently.

"Damn. Yer a closet sadist, aren't you."

"No," both Zechs and Wufei answered in unison.

Quatre and Duo both smothered chuckles as Wufei ducked his head to cover the sudden blush rising to his cheeks.

"God you two are so cute," Duo grinned.

"Bakayaro," Heero muttered under his breath.

Wufei almost choked on his brunch as he started to chuckle mid-bite.

"What? What?" Duo demanded.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Your food's getting cold," Wufei said innocently.

Duo frowned, glaring at everyone around the table.

"Fine. See if I ever invite you all out to party again."

"Now that really would be a tragedy," Zechs muttered.

"Yeah. Just think of all the lonely buckets," Quatre quipped.

* * *

Amazingly, they managed to get completely through their meal, and even the dishes, before they got their first call of the day. A call that turned out to be as uneventful as the rest of the morning had already been: just someone smoking under a detector in an office building.

After watching to make sure the building's alarm reset, they returned to the firehouse, whipped up a batch of extra buttery popcorn, and congregated in the living room in front of the TV to watch the movies Wufei had brought with him.

Trowa and Quatre curled up on one end of the couch together, unabashedly snuggling close. Wufei cast a questioning look towards Zechs when the older man settled on the other end of the couch. The Asian man's eyes darted towards Heero quickly, and then back towards Zechs, obviously in query. Zechs shrugged philosophically and patted the couch beside him. Wufei held his ground for a moment, considering, before finally joining the Captain on the couch and scooting close. Duo plopped himself into one of the comfy recliners and kicked back, setting one of the large bowls of popcorn within easy reach. Heero settled himself into the other recliner, his technical journals spread over his lap.

"Duh... you can't study during Sunday Movie Time. It's a Union By-law..." Duo sighed, eyeing Heero impatiently.

Heero sighed, considering heading out to the bay. This Sunday Movie Time was unproductive.

:Unless you consider its implications on group morale and team solidarity,: his brain butted in.

With a defeated sigh, he closed the journals and set them aside.

"Fine."

Duo grinned and hit the play button on the remote, palming a huge fistful of popcorn in the process.

:Besides... I don't want to miss our afternoon visit,: Heero thought to himself with an evil smirk.

* * *

Duo was crowing with laughter at the movie, when their quiet afternoon was shattered by the rumbling tones of music being played just outside the station on a very loud car stereo. Everyone, save Heero, jumped up from their comfortable sprawls and rushed outside.

Sitting in their parking lot was a black and white police cruiser. All of its doors were open, and its PA system was hooked up to the tape deck, which was cranked to full volume.

As the opening strains of the Macarena rolled over them, two uniformed police officers walked up to Duo with a plastic bucket.

"Duo Maxwell? On behalf of Jakes, we would like to present you with the annual Budweiser Bucket Cabaret Award. Congratulations," one officer deadpanned, while the other one handed him the bucket. They both took a step back and saluted him in unison.

Saluted Third Rock style, that is.

Then, without further ado, they turned, walked back to their cruiser, hopped in and drove away, waiting until they were a good block away before they turned off the music.

Duo stared down at the bucket in his hands, face turning an unflattering shade of brilliant beet red.

"YUY!"

All eyes turned towards the station, where the Japanese man was standing, leaning against the brick wall with his arms crossed over his chest and a self-satisfied smirk teasing at the corners of his mouth. Duo advanced on him brandishing the bucket dangerously. Heero simply pushed away from the building and started heading back indoors. He paused at the door and turned to spear Duo with a sadistic smirk.

"Now, Maxwell. Now we're even."

* * *

Notes  
[1] Intubation Kit – Those tubes that docs and medics stick down peoples throats to help them breathe. It's called an Endotracheal Tube... or and Intubation Tube.

[2] KY – Yes. Typically Intubation Kits come complete with a tube of KY... helps the tube go down the throat easier... and helps the stylette, that little metal wire that medics put in the tube to keep it firm enough to go down the throat, go into the tube easier


	8. Chapter 7

He stood back and eyed his handiwork with an appraising eye. He'd broken his cardinal rule on this job, but, if it went off the way he'd carefully planned it to, it would be well worth the trouble.

Pesky firemen. They were simply too good at their job, particularly in this area of town. They were too swift at murdering his beautiful beast. Well, not this time. This time should be...

Educational.

It hadn't been easy finding the quantity of the raw materials he'd needed to set this job up. Thank god for auto junkyards. Although, the man in charge of the last place he'd been to had been a little surprised and curious about the volume of old Volkswagen parts he'd bought.

Too curious. He'd have to be dealt with.

Treize wasn't about to mar his spotless career because of some snooping, curious old man.

Old men who suffer from heart attacks so easily.

Treize shook his head suddenly. Where were these dark thoughts coming from?

As he peered about himself restlessly, his eyes fell upon the book of matches sitting on a crate not too far away.

Oh yes. His Beast. His beautiful, magnificent Creature. His seductive Siren.

A heart attack would do quite nicely. Une could see to it.

He slipped over to the crates where he'd left his matches and retrieved them.

How amazingly simple a device was a match. Just a bit of wood, a little bit of sulfur and other chemicals. And nothing more.

And yet, contained within its elegant simplicity, coiled the power to change the world.

He studied the match he withdrew from the small box, and smiled. He felt the nether regions of his body tighten as he twisted the thin bit of wood this way and that, fascinated by the pure phallic imagery of it.

"The power to change the world... " he murmured, striking the match across the box clutched in his other hand.

As the head of the match flared to life, he swallowed hard against the wash of purest pleasure overtaking him. His eyes closed tight, teeth clenched, and body quivering until the sensation passed.

Perhaps Une should have need of being jealous of his beautiful Creature.

The edge of the flame kissed his fingertips, sputtered, and died in his grasp.

His eyes snapped open, staring down at the wrinkled, charred sliver of wood held fast between two calloused fingertips. He blinked owlishly, still coming down off of his high.

As the scent of the sulfur and wisp of smoke finally drifted away, he became aware of the scent of his own semen, and the slick sensation of his jeans clinging to his skin uncomfortably.

He dropped the spent match on the floor and set the box down where he stood. Crossing over to a backpack, he withdrew a fresh set of clothing.

He _was_ a professional after all. Even if he'd given his Creature the power to seduce him.

A few quick minutes later, he was cleaned up, and dressed in a new set of non-incriminating pants.

He returned to his abandoned matches, withdrew a fresh one, and lit it without incident. Carefully reaching in, he lit the candle in the paper sac sitting on the floor.

Between the candle's burn time, the streamers of wax paper, and the sluggishness of the thermite igniter, he should have a good two hours before the magnesium in those auto parts caught fire.

Plenty of time to grab himself an alibi.

As the candle burned it's way merrily down towards its destiny, Treize packed up the last of his unused and soiled supplies, and slipped off to find his own.

* * *

Duo perched on top of Engine 8, lounging comfortably along the hose bed, watching Heero tie an endless array of knots into the rope he was fussing over.

Being on the Rope Rescue Team himself, Duo nodded with appreciation at the beautiful Figure Eight On A Follow Through that Heero had just tied.

"What did you do that for?" he asked, confused as Heero suddenly began ripping the knot out of the rope with a scowl.

Heero simply growled in response, and started tying it again.

"Man... If you don't learn to relax, you're going to give yourself an aneurysm one of these days," Duo said, sitting up and leaning forward to watch Heero more intently.

"It wasn't right," Heero replied defensively.

"The hell it wasn't. It was great. You even dressed it right,[1]" Duo replied, grabbing up his can of soda and taking a loud slurp of it.

"Hn."

"Fine. Don't believe me. Rip out every knot from here to Timbuktu. See if I care. Which I don't," he said, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"Hn."

"Give yourself a fucking ulcer. See if I care about _that_," he muttered, "Which I don't!"

"Hey... You wanna shut-up up there?" Heero said, glaring up at the driver, "I'm trying to work here."

"Fine. See if I care. Just trying to help. Ya know, Heero... if there's one thing I know about, with all this hair of mine... It's knots. But if you don't want any help... "

Heero turned and fixed Duo with an even deadlier glare.

"Feh!"

Duo hopped down off of the top of the rig and stalked away, his soda can clutched so tightly in his hand that he crushed it.

As Duo vanished through the door into the kitchen, Heero shook his head and sighed.

"Baka."

* * *

Duo emptied the last bit of his abused soda can into the sink, and washed his hands. After tossing the can into the aluminum recycling can, he threw himself down into one of the recliners with a muffled crash, and flipped on the TV.

Quatre and Trowa glanced up at the driver from their sprawl on the couch, taking in the surly expression.

"Problem, Duo?"

"No."

"Really?" Quatre persisted, concern and amusement warring with each other over the too-quickly-given response.

"I'm fine," Duo answered through clenched teeth.

"Hn," Trowa replied, fighting to keep the faintest of smirks off of his face.

Duo's gaze snapped over to spear the two paramedics where they sat curled with each other on the couch. Trowa returned the intense look with a faintly bored one of his own, his arms tightening in a protective manner around the blonde snuggled against him. Well acquainted with Trowa's language of silence, Duo read that unspoken warning.

He also read the deep devotion they shared with each other.

Before he realized what it was he was doing, he surged to his feet with a strangled growl and stalked off for the rig bay.

"Gonna go shoot some hoops," he declared sullenly.

The door slammed shut behind him.

"Well. That was certainly... something."

"Hn."

* * *

He was just reaching for the basketball when the tones went off, echoing through the bay.

"This is a General Alarm. All units are 10-8. We have a report of a structure fire, section 8A. The corner of Lawrence and Kenyion, reported flames seen from an abandoned warehouse."

"Well, shit! How cliché is _that_?" Duo scoffed, dashing past Heero to the front of the rig and hopping into his bunker pants while Heero geared up.

Zechs darted into the bay and started shrugging into his gear quickly. Within half a minute, Engine 8 was rolling out the door with lights flashing and sirens starting their eerie wail into the warm afternoon.

Trowa and Quatre entered the bay from the kitchen, watching as Engine 8 vanished down the street at a breakneck pace. The speaker in the bay popped again, signaling another incoming call.

"That's us," Trowa said, unconsciously staring up at the speaker on the wall.

Quatre nodded just as the tones went off.

"Medic 6, respond to the General Alarm at the corner of Lawrence and Kenyion for medical stand-by."

The two paramedics nodded to each other, dashed to their own rig, hopped in, and were racing down the street in Engine 8's wake less than a minute after 8 cleared the door.

* * *

As Engine 8 reached the scene, they could all see the flames shooting out the roof of the warehouse. Great black clouds of smoke billowed out from the eaves and broken windows, tinged here and there by plumes of yellow and white.

Duo slid the rig to a halt close enough to get hose to the fire, but hopefully far enough away that the building's radiant heat wouldn't burn out the engine, before shifting the rig into Pump Gear

By that time, Zechs and Heero already had the 250-foot section of 1 ¾ inch hose pulled off and were flaking it out. Duo watched as Heero caught back up with Zechs near the large front doors to the warehouse. The two firefighters clicked their regulators into place on their masks, and then Zechs gave Duo the hand signal to charge the line. Duo fast idled the engine, and yanked open the right valves, watching as the hose jumped and twisted, bucked and writhed on the ground as it flushed full of water.

As Medic 6 arrived, Zechs and Heero hauled on the hose, and slipped into the gloom.

Heero firmed his grip on the hose in his arms, hauling on it hard to keep up with Zechs ahead of him. He took slow, measured breaths, pausing between each one to listen carefully for the telltale crackle of the flames, or the creaking of the rafters over their heads. He felt the hose buck in his arms a little as Zechs hosed down a small patch of wall, flaming nearby. His captain shut the hose down just as quickly as he'd opened it; they would be running on the 750 gallons in their tank until another engine arrived, so they had to make their water count.

Ahead of him, Zechs pushed further into the thick smoke, crawling forward and feeling his way along. Behind him, he could feel Duo, feeding the hose through the doorway.

He tried to keep a careful calculation on how far they'd crawled, counting each shuffling shift forward, and estimating them at about 170 feet in. With the fifty foot of hose they'd laid to get to the warehouse, they should only have another twenty feet or so of slack left.

His radio squawked, rumbling against his chest as newly arrived rigs reported in and assigned each other duties.

He heard Engine 9 grab the hydrant, laying hose down to Engine 8. Duo had it hooked up in no time at all, since he was immediately calling to have that feeder line charged to give Zechs and Heero all the water they could need.

Truck 2 had arrived, and was setting up their aerial ladder for a roof attack. The Battalion chief arrived, taking charge of the scene and calling for more rigs even as he surveyed the fire scene. Engine 12 arrived, and headed for the back of the warehouse to stage there, yanking off their own hose for an exterior defensive stand. Engine 7 arrived and joined 12 on the side street, trying desperately to keep the nearby buildings from bursting into flame because of the immense heat the burning warehouse was throwing off.

Over his radio, Heero could hear Duo ordering someone to pull the booster off of 8 and spray the rig with it to keep the heat from damaging the engine. On the tails of that order, Duo's voice broke over the radio, asking Zechs if he was needed inside with them.

Zechs paused for a second in his forward crawl to consult his SCBA gauges. He turned and grabbed Heero, pulling him close in the haze to yell a question at him.

"How's your air?"

Heero quickly checked his gauge, pleased with his conservation.

"Over half a tank."

Zechs cursed loud enough that Heero heard him over the rumble of the fire and the hiss of their SCBA.

"I'm running low... I'm calling Duo to replace me," Zechs yelled again, shifting so that Heero could crawl around him and take the nozzle.

He listened as Zechs ordered Engine 8's driver to join them, and then ordered Heero to stay put while they waited for Duo to arrive.

Before the driver got there, Zechs' tank buzzer started to go off.

Cursing, the captain reinforced his order to stay put, and began crawling back along the hose to the outside. In the roaring darkness, Heero concentrated on tracking the fire down.

The heat seemed to come at him in waves from his left... Above and to the left. He turned that way, listening to the roar and crackle of the fire ahead, and the pounding rush of water hitting the tin roof. It was there. He could feel it.

The fire loomed above him in the darkness, coiled like a snake about to strike, flaring fangs out and tail snapping its war cry.

He knelt, alone in the smoke, crouched in the acrid curtain, and felt his silence overtake him. The heat and the rage of the fire faded away, melting into a dim reality, set aside from the cool clarity of his mind. And as the fury of the flames drifted apart in his consciousness, he could almost see the smoke parting before him, laying the beast of the fire bare in his sight.

There. The demon cowered in fear beneath his frigid blue glare of contempt.

He shifted, intending to turn the hose upon the flames and kill them, to slay the beast in its own lair, when the muffled curse, and the violent thump against his back heralded Duo's arrival.

The moment was gone, and the world was once more swallowed up into the choking curtain of smoke.

The fire chortled with glee.

"C'mon! Let's go!" Duo shouted, taking the hose from Heero and shuffling ahead of him.

Heero growled low in his throat, both at having lost the nozzle, and at having lost his insight into the fire. Shaking his head, he grabbed the hose and crawled after Duo towards the fire's throat. The cherry glare ghosted out of the darkness as they neared the seat of the conflagration. Heero had to turn his head a little to the side to ward off the intense heat rolling off of the blaze and pounding at his face through the mask.

It was too hot where they were. They were too far in, too close to the fire. If they didn't cool the room off fast, or retreat, they would get burned. Heero, himself didn't care overmuch, but he wondered at Duo's ability to stand the heat.

Duo settled back on his haunches, pressing back against Heero for support as he opened the nozzle wide. A thick solid stream of water burst out, raging against the fire and exploding into heavy gouts of steam. Heero could feel the heat pressing in on him like a ten-ton hand, sitting on his chest. He shrugged it off and pushed forward more, shoving closer to Duo.

Before them, the fire fought against their control, flaring and snapping with each wave of water that struck it. They could both see how the crimson glare would sputter and die, and then suddenly flash up again as Duo played the stream over it. Vaguely, in the back of his mind, Heero registered that as something wrong. Gravely wrong.

But Duo was pressing forward again, struggling with the hose and clearing a path for them. The throat of the fire, the seat where it burned the hottest and most violent, loomed up before them, claws spread wide in all of its violent glory.

Heero could hear Duo giggling maniacally in front of him as the braided man opened the nozzle again. As the blast of water dove into the heart of that hellish conflagration before them, the gates of Hades burst wide open and the maw of hell tried to swallow them whole.

The glow abated for all of a second, before a curious pop-snapping erupted from the seat of the fire. A blossom of new fire, sun-bright, and almost as hot, exploded from the dimness, silhouetting Duo against the glow. Steam erupted from the blaze like a geyser, boiling forth in a vicious cloud.

They realized their danger in the same instant.

Duo screamed a curse as he simply dropped the hose and both of them leapt to their feet. As they turned to run, either back along the hose to safety, or simply away from where they found themselves now, the fire incandesced behind them.

The roof gave an ominous rumble as the throat of the fire exploded.

Heero's last thought as he threw himself atop Duo to protect him from the cascading roof trusses was that at least one of them had to survive this.

And then, as something struck him from behind, the whole world went dark.

* * *

Notes  
[1] Dressing a knot – When you tie any knot, particularly complicated ones, you finish it by "dressing" it. That basically means you go back over the knot, making sure that the rope isn't twisted anywhere in the knot, and that the rope crosses itself a minimum number of times. That makes the knot both structurally stronger and safer, as well as just plain look better. A Figure Eight On A Follow Through should look like... . Well... . Two number "8"s nestled one inside the other. One end of the "8" should have the two ends of the rope coming out of it, and the other end of the "8" should have a loop of rope coming out. These knots are typically used to anchor the top end of a rappelling line.

[2] Speaker pop – In Station 8, the speaker gives off a staticky little "pop" about five to ten seconds before they announce a call. I'm not sure if it's intentional, or just a quirk of the electronics, but it's really nice. For one thing, it's a lot better on firemen's hearts than just getting a blaring beep out of the blue (when you hear the pop, you're expecting the emergency tones), plus it's a great way to freak out rookies who haven't noticed the pop yet. (Like when the senior firefighter hears the pop and says to the rookie "Call coming in" and then the rookie's eyes bug out when, sure enough, a few seconds later, a call comes in... . good for tons of laughs)

[3] Pump Gear – The same engine that drives the rig, drives the rig's pumps. You just have to hit the right switch inside the cab to switch the engine's power from the wheels over to the pump.

[4] Flaking out the hose – all that hose is stacked and folded on top of the fire trucks. When you are about to use some of it, you have to pull the whole section off of the rig and lay it out as straight as you can, taking all the folds, bends, and kinks out of it, otherwise... the hose don't work. Usually, one person (the Captain) takes the nob, or nozzle end of the hose and heads towards the fire. Then the second person (the rookie) grabs the midpoint of the hose (that's why it's folded the way it is... so we can find the midpoint easy) and runs off in the opposite direction. This lays it all out in the quickest way

[5] Charge the line – turn on the water.


	9. Chapter 8

Zechs had just finished shrugging his fresh air bottle on when an explosion rocked the warehouse, sending the entire roof caving in on itself. His eyes grew wide and he ripped his radio out of its protective pocket, abandoning all normal protocols and cueing it up.

"Duo! Heero! Report!"

Static filled silence answered him.

He wasted no more time and dashed over to the Batt Chief to deploy the RIT Team.

He couldn´t breathe. It felt like there was a whole fire truck sitting on his chest holding him down. Or maybe the St. Mary´s Rugby team. Now THERE was a group of guys who could hit!

Now when was it that he´d started playing Rugby again? He gave that up for a while when he took this fire fighting job…

Duo tried to move, groaning when he found himself fairly well pinned. He lay there trying to remember what had happened for a long minute, before he realized that his air was warm.

Wait a second… Air? Why was he on air?

He listened to the harsh stutter-rush-hiss of his regulator as he took in a deep breath. He was hot. Very hot, and getting hotter. And the warm air in his tank wasn´t doing anything to cool him off.

Whatever had happened, and where ever he was, it was bad. Warm air was a very bad sign. It meant that his tank was overheating, and that he was probably too far in. Time to leave.

Too far in to where? He growled as he shifted his position again, trying to free himself from whatever was pinning him.

He´d leave, just as soon as he could get that damn ton of whatever it was off of his back!

An arm dropped down, draping itself over his shoulder into his line of sight.

Duo struggled, clenching both of his fists and taking a moment to actually count his hands to himself. Yup. Both there. Which meant that the hand he was seeing wasn´t his own. Who´s-

Oh shit. Heero!

Adrenaline and desperation gave him a surge of strength that he hadn´t realized he possessed. With a savage grumble, he managed to push his way out from under the other fireman and turn to survey the damage.

And felt his jaw hit the floor.

The lower half of Heero´s body was hidden under a pile of what could only be the ceiling and roof. The pile where Duo would have been if Heero hadn´t tackled him and shoved him out of the brunt of the collapse. Steel trusses, tin sheets, charred two-by-fours, tar paper, and unidentifiable chunks littered the area, pinning the unconscious fireman to the floor.

Heero had traded his safety for Duo´s.

Duo tried to stumble to his feet, but the heat pressed him down again. It held him in its oppressive hand, stealing his breath and melting the face shield off of his helmet.

Duo shook his head, crawling forward and seizing Heero´s shoulders in his gloved hands. He gave a mighty heave, trying to pull the other man out, but ended up flat on his butt when his grip slipped.

Heero´s tank began to buzz warningly. He was running out of air.

* * *

rowa and Quatre already had a backboard and the gurney ready. The RIT Team, four men with fresh air packs, heavy tools, and a new hose, had made entry about five minutes earlier. Trowa and Quatre had set up the gurney right beside Engine 8, while they took their supplies and the backboard, and waited as close to the main door as they could get without either being in the way, or getting burned by the heat and smoke.

Zechs waited beside them, ready to lend a hand when the RIT team brought the missing firefighters out.

"I should have been there. Should have been me," Zechs muttered as he started to pace.

"No. You´d have been out of air by now if you had been. You can´t blame yourself," Quatre soothed.

Zechs spun and speared him with an intense glare.

"He´s right. It wasn´t your fault. Besides, Duo knows what he´s doing. They´ll make it out of this," Trowa said.

Zechs watched them both, eyeing them gravely for a long moment before he nodded in defeat to their logic.

Quatre slipped up next to the brooding captain and laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"All we can do is wait for the RIT team."

* * *

Duo fished out his radio, listening for a second to make sure no other traffic would drown him out before he keyed up the mike.

"Engine 8 Captain, Engine 8 Driver, we need a RIT team here, fast."

"Duo? Where are you Duo?" was Zechs´ immediate reply.

"About twenty feet from the seat of the fire, on the hose about fifteen feet from the nob. Heero´s down, pinned, and running low on air. I´m going to start sharing my tank with him, but I´m down to 30 minutes."

"10-4. RIT team, did you copy that?" the Batt chief asked.

A strange, muffled male voice acknowledged it, and Duo heaved a small sigh of relief. They´d already deployed the RIT team. With one hand, he slipped his radio back in his pocket, while his other hand fished through another pocket for the four-foot length of flexible plastic tubing he always kept coiled there. With a triumphant laugh, he pulled it out and stuffed one end of the tube between Heero´s cheek and his mask. Right as Heero´s tank sucked dry, Duo slipped the other end of the tube between his own cheek and mask. The regulator roared in his ears as Heero drew a breath from Duo´s tank through the tube that connected them. It was strange, feeling the air rush past his face, but not being the one to breathe it.

He was just glad he was paranoid enough to carry that tube on him. While he waited for the RIT team to arrive, Duo started digging through the debris pinning his partner down, tossing off bricks, beams, and burning timbers with abandon. Near the center of the collapse, the fire was steadily eating its way free again, white-hot tongues of fire trickling through the piles and twisted mess of wreckage.

After clearing the rest of Heero´s upper body and untangling his Scott pack from the rubble, Duo pulled out his length of tube webbing. The heavy-duty nylon strap slipped easily under Heero´s arms, snugging up tight against his shoulders. Duo took the other end, wrapped it around his arms, and scooted backwards, flexing his legs against the floor for all he was worth. Both the strap and the air tube stretched between the two firefighters, straining against the pull for a long minute before something within the pile gave way with an audible crack. Duo just hoped that it hadn´t been any of Heero´s anatomy that he´d just heard break as he hauled the unconscious firefighter out from under the pile.

Once Heero´s feet had cleared the debris, Duo scrambled forward to get a better grip on his partner. Wrapping the tube webbing around Heero in an improvised harness, Duo slowly started crawling his way back along the hose. He hadn´t gotten but half a dozen feet when his tank suddenly sucked dry against his face. A split second of panic gripped him before he reached up and ripped off the regulator from the mask. The choking black smoke and searing heat assailed him fiercely before he could get his nomex hood pulled up to cover the regulator hole in his mask. It wouldn´t be much protection, but it would filter out some of the bigger particles of smoke and crap from the air.

As he reached forward to give Heero the same treatment, a figure materialized out of the smoke. Hands quickly relieved him of his burden, while someone else with a fresher tank assumed possession of the tube supplying Heero´s air. Duo felt someone´s shoulder slip under his own and help support him as they led him away from the twisted wreckage that was rapidly blazing up once more.

By the time the outside light started filtering into the smoke, Duo´s racking coughs had stolen what little strength he had left. The threshold loomed up before him, catching him unawares and spilling him out of the building to collapse on his hands and knees on the concrete sidewalk. Before he could move, other hands were quickly tearing off his mask, tank, and gear. Someone was pressing a different kind of mask to his face, while other hands lifted him to his feet again, trying to drag him towards an ambulance gurney. He thrashed in their grip, batting all the hands and the oxygen mask away.

"Forget me… Heero-"

"Duo, sit!" Zechs ordered, appearing at his right side.

"I´m fine… Heero´s…" he managed to gasp between coughs and huge gulps of the cooler outdoor air.

Duo turned to watch two firefighters emerge from the doorway of the building, carrying the limp burden of the Engine 8 firefighter between them. Trowa and Quatre leapt into action, quickly stripping the unconscious firefighter´s mask and gear from him and directing the men carrying him to lay him on the backboard waiting beside them. Without missing a beat, the firefighters had laid Heero on the board, and picked the board up, quickly shuffling off towards the waiting gurney.

Meanwhile, Trowa had already gotten an oxygen mask on Heero, while Quatre slipped a cervical collar on him in case he´d gotten a head or neck injury. Duo staggered after them, following in their wake as they maneuvered Heero onto the gurney. Before they strapped him down, Trowa slipped the last of Heero´s rig gear off, tossing it onto the engine nearby. As the last of the straps were buckled into place, Heero´s eyes snapped open.

"Duo-"

"He´s fine, Heero. Duo´s fine," Quatre assured him as they wheeled the gurney to the ambulance.

"Safe?"

"He´s safe. Duo, come here, you´re riding in with us," Quatre ordered. Duo lurched over, still trying to clear the acrid smoke from his lungs. Heero´s eyes zoomed in on the driver, something like relief flashing through his Prussian gaze for the briefest of moments.

Then his eyes rolled back into his head and his whole body relaxed into unconsciousness once again.

* * *

Something was tickling his nose. Not low near the nostrils, but up high, near the bridge of his nose. It was really starting to get annoying. No. Not a tickle… a sting. Like when he´d worn those sunglasses with the really tight nose-grips for too long last summer. It was that tingly stingy sort of feeling your skin gets when you wear a brand new pair of socks without stretching the elastic out first. And the inside of his nose felt really dry, almost like he´d been breathing desert air for a week.

What was going on? Why couldn´t he focus his thoughts? And what the hell was that tickling his damned nose?!

He opened his eyes, blinking them shut tightly again as the blaring white light and pale pink walls stabbed at his brain behind his pupils.

"Duo?"

He almost jumped out of his skin as that voice spoke quietly from beside him. He recognized that voce. Now why wouldn´t his brain supply him with a name?

"Duo, you awake?"

So calm. That voice was low like a rumbling peal of thunder, but not as harsh. Who-

Trowa.

He blinked his eyes open again, slitting his eyelids carefully against the bright glare. Yup. There was the bang. Trowa.

He tried to speak, to at least acknowledge the paramedic´s presence, but his voice wouldn´t come. Pain lanced along his throat, screamed along every nerve from the back of his tongue to his lungs, and then some. Unbidden, his face scrunched up, and a sharp breath hissed between his clenched teeth. The oxygen mask cinched tight to his face pinched along his cheeks as he grimaced. Well, that explained the abuse his poor nose was retaliating against.

"Don´t try to talk. You got a pretty good lungful of smoke and superheated air."

Duo grimaced again.

"Heero´s up getting x-rayed," Quatre said as he appeared beside his partner.

Trowa nodded down at Duo, directing Quatre´s attention there.

"Duo! You´re awake! Don´t try to talk. You hurt your throat and lungs."

After a few moments of watery-eyed blinking, Duo´s eyes finally adjusted to the glare. He speared them both with a questioning glance.

"You passed out right after we got you into the ambulance with Heero." Duo tossed them both a surprised look, grimacing when he automatically tried to speak and his voice rattled harshly in his abused throat.

"If you keep trying to talk, you'll hurt your throat even worse, and then we may have to tube you. You don't want that now, do you?" Quatre admonished gently.

Duo shuddered as he just thought about having one of those large ventilation tubes forced down his throat. He shook his head frantically, clamping his mouth shut with an audible snap.

"Heero's upstairs getting X-rays and a CT scan. He still hasn't regained consciousness since you saw him last," Quatre explained, unconsciously checking Duo´s bandages and IV line.

Duo nodded and gave the blond paramedic a calming, brave smile, a shadow of his normal cheeky grin, but at least a valiant attempt. Quatre saw the smile for what it was and simply shook his head, willing himself to still his nervous hands.

"They'll take good care of him up there, Duo. I promise." Duo feigned nonchalance, shrugging tiredly and flipping them a 'devil-may-care' smirk before settling himself back against his gurney. Darkness stole over him once more even as his head hit the scratchy, sterile hospital pillow.

He awoke once more, this time safely ensconced in a more permanent hospital bed, rather than the wobbly-wheeled gurney in the ER. He wasn't sure if he was any happier about that. Being in a bed, in a room, most likely occupied by a second patient, if the gentle snores wafting from the drawn curtain were any indication, in the hospital, and not still hanging out down in the ER indicated to him that he was likely in for an extended stay. Or at least an overnight stay.

He didn't like hospitals under the best of circumstances. He especially didn't like being a patient in one.

A cheerfully smiling, almost bouncy young nurse flounced into the room and sailed past the curtain into Duo's half of the room. She glanced at him, startled when she realized he was awake, and then smiled brightly. "Mr. Maxwell! You're awake! Very nice. No. Don't try to talk. You've hurt your throat badly. Got a few burns and inhaled some stuff you really shouldn't have ought to have. It's made all the skin on the inside of your throat swell up a little. Now you're doing fine and we don't expect any complications, but the doctor wanted to keep you here in the hospital for a few days just to be sure. It's just a precaution to make sure that your throat doesn't swell up so much that you can't breathe. You'll probably be out of here within a week or so at the latest. Until then, just relax, get some rest, and don't strain your throat. If you need anything, use your nurse call button, on that little keypad right there, and someone will come help you as soon as possible. Okay? Good. I'll bring you some dinner in just a little while then. See you later. Bye!" she chirped brightly as she bustled about his half of the room, checking equipment, giving him a brief once over, and refilling his pitcher of ice water.

He was amazed. Even had he been able to talk, he still wouldn't have been able to get a word in edgewise. He'd never known that was possible until that moment.

He settled himself back after adjusting his bed so he could sit up and watch TV. Hopefully his roommate was a heavy sleeper, because if Duo didn't do something soon to distract himself, he'd start shredding his pillows and blankets from sheer boredom. With any luck, Springer would be on.

Of course, by now, he should have realized that luck just wasn't with him that day. Otherwise, he probably wouldn't have been in the hospital in the first place.

No Springer.

Montel was on, however, and that was usually almost as good. He grabbed a cup of cool water to soothe the ache in his throat and concentrated on the TV.

As his mind started wandering, he wondered how Heero was doing.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Mr. Maxwell. I'm Dr. Sorenson. How are you feeling?" Duo jumped, his heart racing as the deep voice broke into his TV coma. His head whipped around and speared the man dressed in the lab coat and holding what were obviously medical charts as he stood at the foot of Duo's bed.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. Feeling all right, other than the heart attack I just gave you?" the Doctor asked with a laugh for his own feeble joke.

Duo shook his head and then gave the doc a thumbs up and a grin.

"Ah, good. Well, I was a little concerned that your throat may continue to swell, so I decided to keep you here for observation for a few days. Hopefully, we'll have you out of here and back on duty as soon as possible."

Duo flashed him a "V for Victory" sign and smiled.

"Well, good. If there's anything you need, just use your call button. Let's see how your room mate is doing, shall we?" he asked, pulling back the curtain.

Duo peered over at the other bed's occupant curiously. A flash of relief shot through him as the doctor reached over and gently shook the sleeping patient's arm.

"Mr. Yuy. You need to wake up now, Mr. Yuy."

Heero's eyes snapped open, his body automatically tensing with a fight or flight response. He recovered quickly and turned, blinkingly staring at the doctor standing beside him.

"Ah, Mr. Yuy. How are you feeling?" the doctor asked pleasantly.

Heero's gaze darted about the room, eyes widening faintly when he noticed Duo watching him intently. Duo winked, and flashed him a thumbs up and a cheerful, if slightly pained, grin.

Duo frowned to himself as Heero glanced back to the doctor. Had that been relief in Heero's eyes when he saw the longhaired driver? Nah. Couldn't have been.

"Hn. Fine. When can I go back to work?" Heero asked tersely.

"Hmmm. Not for at least a week. You've been in and out of consciousness all day, Mr. Yuy. According to your CT scan, you have a brain contusion. You'll be here for a few days, and I'm afraid you shouldn't plan on getting much rest for the next 24 hours or so. I'll be having a nurse wake you up once every hour or so until some of the swelling in your brain goes down. You did take quite a nasty blow to your head, after all.

"You'll also probably be quite sore for the next week or so. How you managed to not break anything, with the extent of crush induced bruising you sustained, is a mystery to us all. You are a very lucky man, Mr. Yuy."

Heero snorted and crossed his arms over his chest belligerently, giving the giving the good doctor the benefit of his rather intimidating glare.

"I hope we can expect your full cooperation during your stay here, Mr. Yuy. I would hate to lose any nurses over a simple contusion," the doctor said, his voice low and even, but his eyes darting about nervously, seeking relief from Heero's oppressive expression.

Duo attracted their attention and tossed the doctor a wink and another thumbs up. The doctor seemed to heave a small sigh of relief.

"Well then, gentlemen, I'm sure your nurse will be bringing you your dinner shortly. I shall leave you to rest."

Without waiting for a response, the doctor retreated from the room. Duo could almost taste the relief radiating from the man to be out of Heero's line of fire.

Duo snorted and shook his head, attracting Heero's attention. Heero turned to glance at him curiously. There was a wary, cautious air about him as he met Duo's eyes.

Duo smiled and mouthed the word "Relax" to his new roommate, cocking his head and giving the Japanese man a mirthful grin.

A calculating gleam entered Heero's eyes.

"Burnt your throat. Can't talk," he guessed.

Duo rolled his eyes and nodded, screwing his face into an exaggerated pout.

"Hn. A week. Where you can't talk. This might not be so bad after all," Heero replied, the tiniest of smirks playing at the corner of his mouth. Duo's eyes narrowed dangerously and he opened his mouth to make a scathing retort. And then snapped it shut again as his throat twinged warningly at him.

Heero watched him, the smirk growing as he cocked his head and cupped one hand to his ear.

"What's that? Oh yes. That would be silence. Amazing."

Duo clenched his jaw and then resolutely turned away from the other firefighter, ignoring Heero as he closed his eyes and begged for sleep to overtake him.

Yet again, fate was to deny him surcease.

"Hi~iye. I'm back, fellahs. Brought you dinner," a familiar bubbly voice called from their open doorway.

The bouncy nurse flounced in, pushing a small cart.

"Hm... Looks like Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, corn, Jello, a dinner roll, and milk for you tonight, Mr. Yuy," she said, carefully uncovering a tray from the cart and plopping it onto the table beside Heero. She grabbed the bed controls and raised the head end of Heero's bed with one hand while she deftly spun the table about with her other. Within a moment, Heero was sitting, staring down that the congealed mess on the tray dubiously.

"And for you... Can't have any solid food yet. Might hurt your throat some more. So, you get one of these. It's got all of your vitamins and minerals, plus everything a growing boy needs," she chirped brightly as she handed him what looked to be like a glass of thick chocolate milk.

He eyed it suspiciously as she bounced back to her cart and wheeled it towards the door.

"Eat up, guys! I'll be back in a while for your dishes!"

As she vanished, both firefighters stared down at their "dinners" with the air of men expecting the object of their examinations to explode. Blue eyes glanced up and met equally cautious violet.

"Hn."

Duo nodded.

Both firefighters shoved their food away and rolled back into their blankets, praying for some miracle to rescue them from hospital hell. That or sleep. Anything to keep from having to choke down that... biohazardous waste the hospital was trying to pass off as food.

Duo's wish finally came true, and a soft, quiet oblivion stole over him like a fuzzy blanket.

Heero sighed softly to himself as Duo's quiet snores drifted over from the other bed. He rolled back over and glanced over at the longhaired driver, a curious frown creasing his brow. Unconsciously, a hand crept up to his chest, absently flexing and massaging his ribs over his heart.

Duo shifted in his sleep, flipping over to face towards Heero's side of the room. He curled up into a small ball, one hand clutching the sheets and blanket at his throat, while the other hand pillowed his cheek. There was a faint line creasing his brow, not quite a frown yet, but a precursor. Heero's frown deepened as he realized he was staring at the slumbering driver. Worse yet, he was actually starting to get concerned about the slightly distressed expression spreading across Duo's face.

Heero growled softly in the back of his throat and turned over, facing away from his new roommate. This was unacceptable. Duo was becoming a distraction.

:Becoming? Is. Baka,: he thought angrily to himself.

:Had to play hero. That's why you're here lying in a hospital bed with that braided idiot as your new roommate for a week. Fate does have a sense of humor. Baka. Lot of good it did to keep him out of the way. He still managed to land himself here.:

He swallowed convulsively, his stomach fluttering in anger, although at what, he wasn't entirely sure. Was it anger for Duo for managing to get hurt despite Heero's efforts? Or was it anger at himself for not managing to keep Duo out of trouble after all? Or was it anger at himself for even caring? Something about Duo's presence there in that room nagged at Heero. Of course that could have just been the American's uncanny ability to get under his skin. That constant yammering and chattering had been the bane of his firehouse life for the last few weeks since he'd been assigned to Engine 8. Duo always seemed to have an opinion on everything. And an unabashed willingness to share said opinion with anyone who would listen, and everyone who was unable to escape, willing or no.

Heero sighed to himself. Duo's injuries were going to be hard on him. For the gregarious, hyperactive, and very vocal driver, the no speaking restriction would be torture. Heero began to have doubts about Duo's ability to maintain sanity with no means of communication. For Duo, a seared throat had to be among the worst of possible injuries he could have gotten. Seared throat. Now how exactly was it that Duo had managed to sear his throat anyway? He'd entered the building after Heero had, and therefor had a much fresher tank of air. If Duo had burnt his throat, then why wasn't that one of Heero's injuries as well?

Heero shifted position, turning onto his other side to stare at Duo again as he contemplated the quandary.

Duo's frown had deepened into a concerned pout. His braid had slipped over his shoulder and now dangled off of the bed, lying limply and almost dead. Heero turned his thoughts back to Duo's injury. For him to have gotten internal burns, he'd have had to have removed his regulator or mask and taken in a lungful of the hot air in that warehouse. But why would he have done that if he had a full tank?

Heero wasn't sure what had happened after the ceiling and roof had hit him, but he had tumbled Duo to the floor below him, cushioning the driver from the brunt of the collapse. Duo had still had his mask on and firmly tightened down when Heero had been knocked unconscious. So it wasn't because of the collapse.

Something else then. And if Heero, who'd been running much lower on air than Duo had, didn't have the same sorts of burns that Duo did, it could only mean one thing.

His tank had run dry and Duo had started sharing his own air. Which meant that Duo had managed to get them both out from the pile of rubble that Heero had felt himself being buried under before he was knocked out.

Heero's eyes wandered over Duo's features, noting the faint mottled marks of light burns and the soft smudges of bruises on his neck and cheeks. Heero hadn't been the only one to take a beating during the collapse.

And somehow as Duo had been trying to get himself and Heero's unconscious body out of the blazing conflagration, he'd managed to lose his own air for long enough to get burnt.

But Heero hadn't.

Heero growled angrily. The stupid fool had almost gotten himself killed trying to save Heero. What the hell could Duo have been thinking? Yes, Heero had taken on the lion's share of the damage from the collapse, but he'd been pretty confident of his ability to survive the roof dropping on him. But superheated air was nothing to fool around with. Even a single breath of it could kill. What the hell had Duo been thinking?

And now he'd be miserable. Yeah, Heero's body hurt, but he'd been through a lot more debilitating and unpleasant forms of pain before. This was actually something like a vacation compared to some of the other things he'd managed to do to himself over the years.

But Duo? Duo's whole personality, his mental stability, in fact, depended on his ability to chatter incessantly. This was a crueler fate than anyone could possibly guess for the braided driver.

On impulse, Heero pushed his call button, summoning a nurse. Within a few minutes, one appeared. Thankfully not the overly bouncy reject from cheer leading camp, but a much calmer, and hopefully more intelligent and rational young woman with kind brown eyes. She noted Duo's sleeping form and slipped up close to Heero to whisper.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Yuy?"

"Could you... find a dry erase board and marker?" he asked almost hesitantly, his gaze darting over towards Duo for an instant. She didn't miss his furtive glance, but wisely didn't comment on it.

"Of course. Anything else?" she asked, noting his untouched meal, "I'm afraid that edible food is out of my area of influence, but maybe something from the vending machine?" she offered with a gentle smile.

"No. I'm fine."

"Okay. I'll be back shortly with that board."

"Arigato."

He leaned back as she slipped quietly from the room. He didn't even bother to fight the weariness stealing over him and throwing him into slumber.

* * *

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sleeping when someone started shaking his arm to awaken him. His eyes flew open, consciousness flooding back into him with a rush. Without even intending to, his hand flashed out to put the person shaking him into a wristlock. He tried to abort at the last second when he remembered he was in the hospital, but it was too late. He was simply too fast.

Or it would have been too late if the person hadn't countered with a swift martial arts block, parrying his attempt neatly and backing a pace away.

"Good evening to you, too," Wufei said mildly as he peered down into Heero's eyes.

"Hn."

Wufei almost smiled.

Across the room, Duo was also awake and clapping in almost childlike glee. Heero glanced over and saw Duo quickly scrawling messages to Zechs, Trowa, and Quatre. Heero made a show of scowling.

"Who's idea was that?" he growled, nodding towards Duo.

"Hn. I wonder," Wufei replied, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Wufei smirked once, nodding very slightly at Heero.

"You aren't fooling anyone but yourself, Yuy," Wufei murmured softly.

Before Heero could answer, Wufei plopped a paper sack into Heero's lap. Seeing the diversion for what it was, Heero took it gratefully.

"What's that?"

"I've seen what they call food around here. We stopped off and got you guys something edible to eat. Tempura Udon, Gyoza, and Ebi for you," Wufei explained.

He turned and plopped another sack into Duo's lap.

"And a double thick, triple chocolate malt for you."

Heero caught himself staring as Duo smiled widely at the large cup he retrieved from his sack. He flashed everyone a thumbs up and a grateful grin before digging into his ice cream.

Heero shook his head and sighed.

"Sure. Give him sugar. You guys get to go home," he muttered as he started fishing his own containers out of his sack.

"Had to get even with you guys for giving me a heart attack somehow," Zechs replied smoothly, gliding up to stand behind Wufei.

Wufei smirked as he handed Heero a pair of bamboo chopsticks.

"How are you feeling, Heero?" Quatre asked politely.

"Fine. Tell them to send me home," he replied tersely.

"Can't do that. I saw your CT scan. You're stuck here for the next week." Heero sighed resignedly as he started methodically working his way through his meal.

"Is there hazard pay in this?" he asked Zechs, nodding towards Duo's side of the room.

"I'll talk to the Union."

Heero snorted, ignoring Duo who was sticking his tongue out at them all.

"Thought you might like to know what we found out about that fire," Wufei said, drawing Heero's attention.

Heero glanced up, meeting Wufei's gaze squarely. Something about the Chinese man's voice triggered Heero's suspicions.

"Whoever set it was trying to kill you guys."

Duo's jaw dropped open and he regarded Wufei with a comic expression of dismay and bafflement.

"The main body of the fire was a collection of magnesium scraps, most likely auto parts. However, whoever set it up also included several large calcium carbonate 'bombs' in the fire zone.

"When you guys started trying to extinguish the fire, the water reacted with the magnesium, causing it to flare and spark. The worst damage came, though, when you hit those calcium carbonate bombs with the water streams. All that water reacted with the calcium carbonate, releasing a huge cloud of hydrogen gas, which exploded, causing the collapse.

"The building's main structural supports had also already been weakened during, or perhaps even prior to, the fire itself.

"In short, the arsonist set a deliberate trap for firefighters. He was out to kill someone on the department," Wufei concluded ominously.

"The Battalion chief has already been notified, and warnings are going out all over the city. But you two keep an eye out. Whoever it was may be disappointed by his or her lack of success and consider coming back here to finish the job."

"Do you really think anyone would be that crazy?" Quatre asked quietly.

"I hadn't thought anyone would be crazy or malicious enough to set a deliberate deathtrap for firefighters before now. Anything's possible, I suppose," Wufei replied.

Quatre shook his head sadly.

"What is this world coming to?" he whispered to himself, his voice mournful. Trowa draped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"Whatever we decide to make of it," Trowa replied quietly.

Quatre leaned into his quiet partner and gave him a grateful smile, thankful for his constant support.

"We'll catch him. One way or the other, we'll find this psychopath and deal with him," Wufei assured the blond paramedic.

"What about the rest of the world, Wufei? What will we do about it?"

"One step at a time, Quatre. One step at a time."


	10. Chapter 9

Heero awoke even before the nurse´s hand made contact with his sleep flushed skin. He curbed his instant defensive reflex, figuring that the hospital staff would probably not appreciate needing to admit one of their own staff members.

"Mr. Yuy?" the young redheaded nurse whispered tentatively, bending down low over him and shaking his left arm gently.

He opened his eyes and regarded her coolly.

"I´m awake."

"Oh. Okay. I´ll be back in an hour or so," she replied.

Before she had a chance to unfold from her looming crouch, the other night shift nurse peeked into the room. Heero recognized her as the woman who had thankfully replaced the bubble-headed twit from that afternoon. He saw her expression grow disdainful and incredulous as she absorbed the redhead´s posture beside Heero´s bed.

As the younger woman quietly slipped out of the room, Heero´s sharp ears picked up the older nurse´s acerbic warning.

"Do you have a death wish, young lady? Or didn´t anyone ever tell you to never lean over an ex-soldier when you wake them up?"

Heero lost the younger nurse´s reply as they moved out of his range of hearing. He frowned to himself. How did she know he was ex-military? Besides that brief stint with the Guard, it wasn´t on his records. At least it shouldn´t have been, and he knew for a fact that he hadn´t told anyone. Was it really that obvious? Had he really been that transparent?

He stared at the ceiling, reevaluating his behavior, searching for the telltale giveaway he must have let slip. After several long minutes of introspection, he came to the conclusion that the older nurse was simply an incredibly good observer. He vowed to watch his behavior more carefully, nonetheless.

He shook his head and shifted to let himself drift back to sleep when a soft groan from Duo´s side of the room caught his attention.

He rolled onto his side and peered through the darkness at his partner, oblivious to the curious little frown of apprehension flitting across his face.

Duo was curled into a tight ball on his side, facing towards Heero, with his head tucked almost into his knees. He´d pulled the blanket up so high that only the crown of his head and the last two feet or so of his braid peeked out from the twisted tangle of fabric. As Heero watched, a violent shudder seemed to wrack the braided driver, and a strangled moan of pain burst from the shadowed pile of firefighter and bedding.

Heero found himself on his feet, standing beside Duo´s bed, not really sure how he´d gotten there. One hand was outstretched, not quite touching him. Heero could feel the muscles in his fingers trembling a little, betraying an inner conflict that he wasn´t even conscious of having. He snatched his hand back and held it up before his eyes for several moments, morbidly fascinated by the fine tremors seizing the offending appendage.

Another harsh, unconscious cry from Duo startled him out of his examination. At this rate. Duo would damage his already abused throat more, and probably end up on a ventilator. Heero frowned at the prospect of a delay in Duo´s recovery.

Heero shoved at the huddled mass of braided driver roughly, adding a harsh grunt for emphasis. Heero was not surprised when Duo seemed to shrug off his attempts to awaken him, and merely curled into himself even tighter.

"Duo," he growled, shoving at Duo´s shoulder once again, this time with a little more force.

The braided man convulsed once, his whole body quaking below the blankets as if was in mortal fear.

Heero reached out and gently disentangled the sodden, sweat-soaked knot of starchy institutional linen from Duo´s stiff body, stroking the damp bangs back from Duo´s face.

Heero frowned at the pinched, grief-stricken expression on the unconscious man´s face. He knelt and laid his hand on Duo´s shoulder, the gentle shake a distinct contrast to the previous rough shoves.

"Duo. Wake up. You´re dreaming."

Duo´s eyes shot open and he uttered a harsh cry of fear- a woman´s name, cringing back from Heero roughly, hiding his head in the crook if his arm. After a moment, he uncoiled from his tight ball and peered up at Heero through hid bangs with wide, confused eyes.

"H- Heero?" Duo mouthed, forgetting in his groggy state to not attempt to speak.

Heero stood again, withdrawing from the American´s personal space.

"You were having a nightmare," Heero replied gruffly.

Duo blinked, confusion evident in his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Use your board, baka," Heero admonished, pointing to the object on the nightstand.

Duo blinked again, before comprehension lit on his features. He grabbed the dry erase board and scribbled quickly.

You woke me up. Why?

There was a quiet sort of hope hidden on the American´s face. It made Heero nervous, and made his pulse race with silent confusion.

"You woke me up. Turnabout," Heero replied curtly as he turned back to his side of the room and crawled back into his bed.

He could hear Duo trying to get his attention behind him, which is why he turned his back on the other man and rolled up in his thin hospital blanket.

"Good night, Duo," Heero growled, hoping the braided man would take the hint and leave him alone to his disquieting thoughts.

Silence descended upon Duo´s side of the room, and Heero heard him quietly set the board and marker back on his small table. How anyone could make such a simple action sound disappointed and regretful, Heero had no idea. Then again, why should he care what it sounded like, or even what the braided baka was feeling? Just because they were basically partners didn´t mean they had to be best friends. Right?

Heero heaved a sigh into the darkness, frustrated with his failing impartiality. What was happening to him? When had he started to care about them? Any of them? Why? He had a job to do, that´s all he should be concerned about, not whether or not some crazy reckless driver was depressed or unhappy or not. What difference would it make anyway?

"Mr. Yuy?"

Heero blinked awake, a frown creasing his brow as awareness returned far more slowly than he was accustomed. The lack of a reliable REM cycle was starting to wear on him, he reasoned as he turned to stare up at the nurse.

She smiled down at him apologetically as she backed up a half step.

"Sorry. Not too much longer and we´ll let you sleep through," she whispered.

He shrugged awkwardly and sat up a little, rubbing at his temple.

"Headache?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"Nothing I can´t handle," he replied with another shrug.

"I can-"

"I´m fine," he interrupted, a little bit more sharply than he´d intended. He shook his head, irritated at himself, and glanced back up at her with what he hoped was at least a hint of contrition. She seemed to read it in his eyes and nodded at him as she retreated from the room.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, he turned over onto his back, pillowed his head on his arms, and stared at the ceiling, counting the tiles. That distracted him for all of a few seconds. He started counting the textured dots on the tile over his head. And then the one next to it. And the tile next to that.

When he´d managed to count the dots in every tile directly over his half of the room, he concluded that sleep wasn´t going to be returning to him any time soon. He cursed silently to himself. Counting was supposed to be therapeutic and sleep inducing, right? Why else would there be all those sheep jokes?

Unbidden, his gaze darted over towards Duo, wondering what the braided man would have made of that mental comment. Probably something crude and sexual, he reasoned. He clenched his jaw to halt the tiny smirk threatening to overtake his lips.

Inactivity was eating at him. He´d never let injury or illness affect him before this. It was frustrating. More than frustrating. Unconsciously, his gaze darted back towards Duo. He caught himself staring at the peacefully slumbering man. With a growl, he sat up and rolled out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cold linoleum with a soft slap. Grabbing a nearby robe to offer a modicum of decency otherwise not afforded by the rather annoyingly revealing hospital gowns, he padded to the wide window beyond Duo ´s bed. Careful not to open the curtain enough to bother his roommate, he leaned against the sill and peered outside.

For all that it was the dead of night, the sky was disturbingly devoid of stars. The wash of the bright downtown lights stole the tiny pinpricks of starlight from the deep black curtain of sky, even managing to blanket the thin sliver of moon in a garish shroud. He sighed, disappointed. The stars always managed to help clear his mind of clutter for some reason, and with this annoyingly painful head injury, he found that he could use that clarity now more than ever.

Of course, being roomed with Duo wasn´t helping matters either. At least he couldn´t talk now. That was one small mercy. Wasn´t it? Perhaps not.

He found himself wondering at his own concern for the braided driver. What was it about the affable clown that was so disturbingly… invasive? Yes. Invasive. That was it.

Heero had been working so hard and for so very long to keep everyone out. His life, his past, his present, his thoughts, his concern, his regard. Everything. No one had any place in any of those places but he, himself.

So how had Duo managed to worm his way in there?

He turned, shifting to lean against the wall beside the window, rather than the window; even curtained, a window at your back was just begging for trouble. Crossing his arms over his chest defensively, he stared at the other man curled so peacefully in his bed.

A thin wash of light from the opened door flooded the room, casting a soft glare over the pale features. Long lashes, chestnut like his hair, lay against Duo´s cheeks, and his lips were slightly parted; an invitation.

Heero shook his head, surprised at himself. He blinked angrily at his momentary weakness. He could not afford attachments. They wouldn´t understand. How could they?

Why would they want to?

He growled again, softly in the back of his throat, seizing the familiar violence he always felt coiled along his spine. Retreating to its comforting embrace, he turned and fled from the room at a brisk walk.

As he stalked past the nurse´s station, he dimly took notice of a slight female form moving to intercept him.

"You should be in bed, Mr. Yuy," the reedy voice instructed him tartly.

He turned his blazing cobalt gaze upon the advancing nurse, not even taking pleasure in her startled exclamation as she met his deadly stare.

"I think a walk would help him to sleep, don´t you?" a calming female alto said, breaking the tension.

His gaze darted up, pinning the other woman, eyes narrowing as he noticed that it was that same, too wise nurse. He broke the eye contact, slipping past the station with a grim determination.

Later. Later he might be thankful. For now, he just needed to do something to take his mind off of his growing weakness.

Dully, in the back of his mind, a deep, familiar voice speaking.

"Be true to your emotions. Never be afraid to act upon them, Heero."

Violently, he shoved the knife-edged memory away.

What would you know? You were a raving sociopath. Besides, you´re dead!

Immediately on the heels of his mental hiss, he heard the ghost of the only father he´d ever known laughing, taunting him. The cloying scent of smoke, ash, charred flesh and singed bone drifted up from his subconscious to assail his nose. He shoved violently at his childhood memories.

I am nothing like you! I will BE nothing like you! Do you hear me? NOTHING!

Odin´s taunting and knowing laughter still echoed in his head, belying Heero´s conviction.

With what would have been a roar of rage on a lesser man, Heero´s fist lashed out, striking the nearest wall. Painted cinder block cracked and groaned under the force, threatening to give way, but holding. Barely.

The pain of his flesh peeling away from his abused knuckles awoke him from his internal struggle. His father´s hateful chuckle faded into the dark recesses of his subconscious once more, taking the scent-

No. Not taking the scent of fire and overcooked meat. The odors remained. Grew stronger, in fact.

Heero´s eyes snapped open; he hadn´t even been aware of squeezing them so tightly shut.

There. It was so faint that even he doubted its existence at first. It was that clinging, retchingly familiar scent that convinced him. It, too, was faint. Nearly undetectable, even in the antiseptic air of the hospital, but nonetheless, detectable to Heero´s hyperactive olfactory passages.

He peered around, his nostrils flaring as he tried to pinpoint the location of the scent, his eyes squinting with the effort to make out the density of the thin, so thin, haze of not-quite-smoke. Following his senses, he drifted down the hallway, entering another wing.

The nurses on this wing, apparently having been pre-warned, wisely stayed out of his way, and made no comment about his questing demeanor.

He frowned angrily. Didn´t they see it? Didn´t they smell it? Or was this yet another cruel joke, courtesy of the regrettably dead Odin.

Regrettably, only because that meant Heero couldn´t have that pleasure for himself.

Doors slipped past him, some opened, some closed, as that same curious calm from the warehouse dropped over him like a comfortable skin. The calm that Duo had shattered back in that warehouse with his very presence.

Heero could feel the calm, that other place within him, tremble, and threaten to crumble as soon as Duo entered his thoughts. Not again. He wouldn´t let the braided man steal it away again.

There. That door. He could… feel something from that door.

He reached for the handle, snatching his fingers away as he felt the heat on the metal of the knob.

Swearing creatively in several languages, he cast his gaze around for a fire extinguisher. Several doors down, the hall opened up into the little area occupied by the nurse´s station for this wing. On wall opposite, he saw what he was looking for.

Ignoring the way his bare feet slapped against the cold linoleum, he dashed back and ripped the extinguisher from the wall. As he turned, he noticed the nurses staring at him with wide, curious eyes.

"Call the fire department. Now," he ordered, leaving them to either obey, or panic.

He didn´t care which; it wasn´t his concern. As long as he could keep the fire from spreading.

Returning to the door, he pulled the pin on the extinguisher and hefted it into a ready grip. His foot lashed out, smashing into the door the same way his still bleeding fist had attacked the concrete wall earlier. The door gave way in a shower of splinters and a torturous crack.

Immediately, huge belches of thick, acrid smoke boiled out onto the hallway.

Heero ducked under the blast of heat and smoke and, taking a gulp of the cool, clean air of the hallway, dipped into the room.

It hadn´t had a chance to extend far. It didn´t really need to. It had all the fuel it needed right there on the bed. Heero played the extinguisher´s plume over the charred, and hopefully, lifeless, corpse wreathed in the fire´s arms.

In the back of his mind, he could faintly make out the annoying buzz of the hospital´s fire alarm; apparently the nurses hadn´t panicked after all.

The fire extinguisher in his hands grew cold as the carbon dioxide rushed out in carefully measured gouts. The flames guttered and flared, dancing it´s deadly ballet with the plume of gas, and slowly losing. Too slowly. He´d forgotten how tenaciously human flesh burned.

He could feel his lungs protesting their abuse; he needed a Scott mask and a tank for this. Hissing in frustration, Heero dove back into the hallway, exhaling in a great explosion of breath. He sucked in another lungful of cleaner air, carefully breathing through his mouth to avoid the sickeningly almost sweet smell of the smoke still rushing from the doorway in thick gouts.

Someone was beside him, trying to hold him back, urging him to wait for the fire department. He curbed his instant reflex to shout that he was with the fire department, before he slipped back into the room. The steel canister in his hands was freezing now, and getting dangerously light. He´d be running out of extinguishing agent soon.

As if on cue, the trigger slammed down hard to the handle, but the whoosh of gas stopped. He cursed and dodged back out of the room to grab another breath and look for a fresh extinguisher.

As he cleared the smoke, a hand reached out to steady him. He looked up, eyes going wide as they met a concerned violet gaze. Duo held out a fresh extinguisher, giving him the hand signal to ask if he was okay. Instinctively firing off the counter signal of ascent, he switched extinguishers and dove back into the room.

He spared a shot for the ceiling and curtains that were burning merrily, before turning the bulk of the fresh canister on the bed and its contents. With one last defiant whumph and flare, the last of the flames sputtered and vanished, plunging the room into preternatural gloom.

He emptied the rest of that extinguisher just for good measure before exiting the room once more.

Duo materialized beside him, taking the empty canister from him and setting it against a nearby wall.

"It´s out," Heero said, after getting his wind back, "One victim, don´t know if… it´s alive."

Duo nodded, jerking his chin over Heero´s shoulder to the rapidly approaching fire fighters. Heero nodded and repeated himself to the Captain who jogged up.

With a gruff growl of thanks, the firefighters set about clearing the room of smoke and checking the victim.

Heero staggered a little, exhaustion from lack of sleep finally hitting him. Duo slipped an arm under his shoulder and started leading him away. They´d only gotten a few steps when a particularly strong waft of smoke assaulted Heero´s nose, shattering his finely held control and bringing down painstakingly constructed walls.

He pulled away from Duo with a violent wrench, collapsing against a wall to empty the contents of his stomach in one furious heave.

Duo stood over Heero, protecting him from the curious stares of the hospital staff as Heero expelled even the memory of food from his abused body. After a few moments, when Heero´s body quit lurching, he knelt and laid a comforting hand on the Japanese man´s shoulder.

Red-rimmed eyes darted up to meet his own. Duo bit his lip in surprise at the confused, angry, lost expression in that cobalt gaze.

He´d been about to disobey the doctor and ask his partner what was wrong, when Heero spoke in a soft, almost childish voice that chilled the braided man to his marrow.

"Odin? No more… please… Odin…"

Heero´s eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped against Duo, unconscious.

* * *

A satisfied smile lit upon his lips as he watched the firefighters swarm over the room and its contents. Perfect. The whole thing had worked perfectly.

The smug bastard who dared think that he had control over the powers of life and death was dead now. The fire had cleansed him.

Not before he´d tried to apologize for trying to murder his mistress and their unborn child, of course. Blasphemer. To dare ask for forgiveness for that.

Well, he may not have found forgiveness in the flames, but he certainly found justice. If he was lucky, maybe a little redemption.

Probably not, though. Souls like that, poisonous and oily, they were better off destroyed. Cleansed. Purified. That would be his redemption. The fire.

At any rate, he was gone now, and no one else was hurt. His beautiful fire had only taken the wicked and left the righteous.

He let the stairwell door close with a soft click. With a childish glee, he literally skipped down the steps, bouncing from one to another as a mad little giggle slipped from his lips.

He was cleansed. Now all that remained was the mother.

He´d have to wait to purify her. It would be too dangerous with the firefighters already here. His fire was powerful and beautiful, but not invincible. Not to the brave knights who had been specially trained and prepared to withstand its fury and powers.

He didn´t hate firefighters. Not even when they killed his beautiful, purifying flame. Oh no. It took great courage to not only withstand, but do battle with the seductively raging beast that was his Purification.

A flare of rage ignited along his soul.

These knights. So fragile. They would willingly stare down the gullet of the fire, place themselves in the path of its purging rage. So certain were they of their own purity, they would face down hell itself to save others from its deadly kiss.

Oh he knew that even the innocent could be taken by the flames. There was no lamb´s blood brushed lintel to ward off this judgment. It wasn´t in the nature of fire to be selective. The strong withstood, the weak fell.

But the knights, these firefighters… They were strong. They would withstand. They would be the blood of the lamb for the innocent.

That´s why he respected them so. No. Why he loved them so.

He did this for them. He would purify the world for his knights. And for the children. For the pure.

For them all he would bring the cleansing rage of the flame to the world. For them, he would set it all right.

Cinders and ash…


	11. Chapter 10

The images and words on the papers scattered all over the table before him began to blur for the fifth time that minute. With a frustrated sigh, Wufei pushed away from the table and lurched to his feet. He stumbled to the stove and poured himself another cup of tea from the pot he'd left brewing. It had been steeping for far longer than he typically liked it, but right now, with the exhaustion licking at his mind and soul, he needed the brew as potent as he could get it.

The antique grandfather clock in the living room started to chime and toll it's far too cheery song. Six in the morning.

Wufei shook his head and trudged back to his seat. Zechs would be back home soon. It wouldn't do for the older man to see him so... drained. Wufei swallowed back a long draught of his bitter tea and returned to pouring over the notes and pictures he'd snapped at the hospital arson four hours ago.

Being the investigator on call that week, he'd been unsurprised to receive the page in the dark hours of post midnight morning. He'd simply climbed out of the bed he shared with Zechs, pulled on his jeans and denim shirt, and headed for the address that he'd found on the pager.

By the time he finished poking through the wreckage of the room, snapped all of the pictures he'd wanted, talked to Maxwell and all the other witnesses, and bullied his tired body home again, Zechs had already gotten up and left for his pre-dawn jog.

Wufei had decided to get some work done on this latest case while all the details were still fresh in his mind. Spreading his materials all over their kitchen table, Wufei had sat down and started transcribing his notes and impressions onto the complicated, multi-paged reports that the fire department demanded.

That was why when Zechs slipped through their kitchen door, he found Wufei still awake, head propped up by one hand, slumped over the littered table.

So engrossed in his work was Wufei, that he didn't even hear the kitchen door click open and then shut once more as his mate crept into the house. An exhausted groan burst from his lips as he contemplated the pictures once again, studying the remains of the corpse.

"I heard that," Zechs' quiet voice murmured from directly behind him.

Wufei jumped a little, his whole body tensing as he rose into a half-crouch from the chair.

Zechs' hands descended on his shoulders and pushed him down again, an admonishing whisper floating through the still morning to chastise the Chinese man.

"Why are you still up? You should have gone back to bed."

"Case," Wufei grunted noncommittally.

"Hn. One with another body count, I see," Zechs commented as his talented fingers began kneading Wufei's too stiff shoulders.

"Just the one."

Wufei leaned back, giving in to his lover's ministrations while Zechs scanned all of his notes from over his shoulder.

"At the hospital?" Zechs queried, voice thick with surprise.

"Yes. Heero found it. Put it out."

"He's been seeing an awful lot of fire for being so new," Zechs said uncertainly, his voice almost hesitant with suspicion.

"He was accounted for during the time when the fire was set," Wufei automatically replied.

"Ah, good," Zechs replied, relieved, "He's a good firefighter."

Wufei nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips at Zechs' compliment: one of the highest a firefighter could give another firefighter.

He melted back into his char a little more, letting his mate work his gifted fingers over muscles that had been screaming with pain and fatigue for much longer that Wufei cared to admit.

"Hn. Interesting. Spontaneous Human Combustion?" Zechs joked as he finished glancing through his lover's notes.

"Murder," Wufei replied grimly.

"Murder? Are you sure?" Zechs asked, surprised.

"Unfortunately."

An incredibly soft curtain of platinum blond draped over Wufei's cheeks as Zechs leaned forward and dropped a tender kiss upon the crown of his head. He felt Zechs' fingers nimbly slipping the tie off of his tight ponytail, freeing it from its confines.

Suddenly, much of the tension in his neck melted away. Zechs' hands crept back to Wufei's shoulders, kneading very gently, while his chin dropped to rest on top of Wufei's head. The Asian man let his mind drift away from the case and the world itself, slipping into a comforting half daze with ease. His dark eyes peered out through the commingled curtain of black and pale gold silk while his mind filled with images of a sun dappled tiger creeping through the long grass at the edge of the rain forest. It was so easy to lose himself in Zechs' embrace.

"Something's bothering you about this case," Zechs observed quietly.

Rather than snapping him back to the real world, Zechs' voice reinforced the soothing half-trance Wufei had put himself into. His thoughts came clearer here, less cluttered smoother.

"Aa."

"What is it?"

"Restraints. The victim had been put in restraints. He couldn't leave the bed."

"So then. It was murder. What else? I can feel it in your shoulders."

"Hn... I'm not... It's there. Staring at me. I just can't see it..." Wufei murmured.

"Don't try. It will come," Zechs replied gently, leaning down and forward a little more to rest his cheek against Wufei's.

"Hn... Burned hot... but fast. Not very much damage... The oxygen was off. At the emergency shut off down the hall. The door had been sealed... to hide the smoke. The window had been opened enough to keep the fire fed... no backdraft. Soft restraints."

Zechs could feel the slight tensing of his lover's body, heralding his return from his thoughts. He unfolded from his crouch but didn't let go of Wufei's shoulders as the Asian man's eyes popped open.

"The arsonist. He's familiar with the hospital, both procedurally and architecturally. The restraints had been properly applied. That's not something your average person can fumble through. The oxygen had been shut off to that wing. To prevent an explosion and fire spread I imagine," Wufei mused.

"So whoever it was, wanted to make sure the victim died, but no one else?"

"Yes. That's it. So it's someone familiar with the hospital, to have accomplished all of that without being seen. Otherwise the arsonist was seen, but he or she belongs there, so no one even considered mentioning that person's presence."

"Highly possible," Zechs agreed.

"With the way the fire burned, however... I'd say the arsonist is also well aquainted with fire as well. Which would point to this not being his or her first fire. Hn. The warehouse."

"Do you think they could have been set by the same person?" Zechs asked.

"It's possible. It was designed to... to kill whoever was sent to put it out," Wufei replied, his hands clenching into fists on the table.

Zechs didn't miss the hesitation, the skip in Wufei's voice, or the unconscious tensing of the Asian man's body. Before he could remark on it, Wufei was speaking again.

"That flophouse. Something about it seems... familiar. There were about a dozen people killed in that one too."

"Deliberately?"

"I wasn't sure before. But now... I think that's a possibility. The fire... it burned from the outer rooms of the building, in. Containing itself. Just like the hospital. If anyone was inside when it started, there would be no way for them to escape, and it was an arson fire. There was enough accelerant used in that fire to open a gas station," Wufei mused softly.

"So it was murder, then, too."

"Aa. Why? Why those people?"

"What do a group of most likely homeless people, firefighters, and a rich, but immoral, business man have in common?" Zechs asked.

Wufei shook his head suddenly, disagreeing.

"Don't include firemen in that. It feels... wrong."

"But the warehouse fire..."

"I don't think it was the same arsonist. The warehouse fire was too... dangerous. Too malicious. It would have been too easy for that fire to get out of control. The flophouse fire and the hospital fire... They were deliberate. The way they were carefully staged, precisely controlled to cause as little damage as possible, but still... Those fires were thoroughly thought out, meticulously calculated executions. The warehouse...was a trap left to chance," Wufei replied decisively.

Zechs' hands stilled as he contemplated that.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly, a sharp stab of fear racing down his spine at the thought of two most likely mentally unstable arsonists running around, concentrating their efforts, it would seem, in his district.

Wufei's shoulders slumped in defeat as he sighed explosively, all of his tension and exhaustion returning in an instant.

"No. No I'm not. It's just a guess."

"Hn. Then we'll figure it out," Zechs soothed, bending down again to drop another gentle kiss atop Wufei's head.

Wufei sighed again.

"I'm safe, you know," Zechs said softly, letting his hands trail from Wufei's shoulders down the Asian man's chest to clasp over his heart.

"I know you are. I'm fine," Wufei lied quietly.

"You were scared. When you got the call about the fire, and heard that two men from 8 were on their way to the hospital," Zechs guessed shrewdly.

He felt Wufei stiffen against him.

"I- I..." Wufei's voice trailed off, not finishing his thought.

Zechs slipped around in front of his lover, squeezing between him and the table and pushing Wufei's chair out into the floor a little to give him more space. He knelt, staring through his platinum bangs to meet the Asian man's dark, pensive gaze evenly.

Wufei glanced away nervously, his throat tight and an uncomfortable sensation crawling along his stomach. He finally turned back to his lover and spoke is slow, hesitant tones.

"It's... dangerous. What we do. I know that. I was there once, right beside you..."

"You still are," Zechs murmured comfortingly.

"Aa. You- you are my strength, Zechs Marquise. I- I can't lose you. I'm a fool for thinking that, but it's true..."

"Why are you a fool?"

"Because... Because our lives are too dangerous..."

"No," Zechs interrupted him gently, "That's an excuse. Please... I'm not Merian, Wufei."

The Asian man clenched his jaw a little and glanced away, deep in thought, though his eyes sparkled suspiciously with the unshed tears that sprang up at Zechs' words.

"I know what you were about to say. Our lives are too dangerous to form such vulnerable bonds. That it would be unjust to force that on another being, to risk not only your life, but their soul, should you be injured," Zechs spoke earnestly.

Wufei turned to meet his gaze once again, swallowing uncomfortably at Zechs' accuracy.

"You're wrong. Yes, we live dangerously. That was part of our mutual attraction to one another. But it is because of that very danger that we must allow ourselves to be vulnerable to the other. To allow ourselves to form that bond, and depend upon each other. No one man can or should be expected to face that daily danger and stress alone. Do you understand?"

"It's weakness, though, to need someone so much," Wufei whispered.

"It's weakness to think that you need stand alone. It takes strength to recognize the need for stability and help. You, my love, are the strongest person I know," Zechs murmured, caressing Wufei's cheek with one callused hand.

Wufei glanced down, not giving in to the instinct to mutter a denial to his lover's words.

"You couldn't have done anything, even if you had been there, you know," Zechs said slyly.

Wufei's gaze snapped back up to Zechs' face, eyes narrowed in speculation and surprise.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Duo still would have been inside that warehouse, even if you'd been there. He'd still have gotten hurt."

Wufei snorted in annoyance.

"That braided baka can take care of himself, I'm sure. What does he have to do with this anyway?"

"You think I don't know how scared you were for both he and I? I'm smarter than that, Chang Wufei. You were frightened... and jealous," Zechs guessed.

"Jealous? Of what?" Wufei scoffed, although something deep in his dark eyes flashed with recognition and panicked denial.

Zechs nodded to himself, settling back on his heels, and then shifting to his knees between Wufei's legs.

"Duo. More precisely... Of Heero," Zechs said, spearing his mate with another shrewd, sly glance as he continued blithely, "I've always known how much you admired Duo."

Wufei looked away guiltily until Zechs pulled his face back towards him with one slender hand on Wufei's chin.

"I- I'm sorry."

"Why?" Zechs asked curiously, "Duo IS rather cute. Especially with all that hair."

Wufei's eyebrows shot into his hairline, and his hand flew to his mouth to stifle back the gasp of surprise.

"It's only human to look and admire, love. As long as he keeps his hands to himself," Zechs teased gently, "I'd hate for Yuy and I to end up killing each other when I stepped in to defend your honor against Duo."

Wufei couldn't help but smile at that image.

"Yuy needs to quit fighting it and wake up," he finally replied, his voice heavy with amusement.

"Give him time. He's very much like you and I, love. Hates to think he's not in control of his own destiny," Zechs murmured, sitting up on his knees and leaning forward to nuzzle at Wufei's throat.

"Hn."

"Were you finished with your notes?" Zechs whispered into the bronzed skin.

"Hn. Guess I could be..."

"Good."

Wufei's hands came up to rest on Zechs' back, rubbing lightly along the thin fabric that was still slightly damp with sweat from his lover's jog. He once again felt all of his tension melting out of him as Zechs nipped playfully at the pulse in his throat, while the blonde's hands busied themselves with the snap and zipper of Wufei's slightly sooty jeans.

As the zipper rasped gently down, Wufei's manhood sprang out, demanding attention. Zechs pulled back enough to toss a chuckle and an amused grin at his mate. Wufei frowned and glanced down for a moment, noticing the source of Zechs' good humor.

"It was two o'clock in the morning," he explained with a blush, defending his commando state.

"Am I complaining?" Zechs murmured, leaning forward to nuzzle at his throat again.

"G- guess... n... no...t..." Wufei managed to sigh as Zechs' talented hands began to stroke him.

With his free hand, Zechs quickly unbuttoned the denim shirt, baring Wufei's chest to the blonde's wandering lips. He smiled to himself as Wufei' s body seemed to melt into his chair, the Asian's head dropping back on his shoulders as if he simply couldn't hold it up any longer. He lapped greedily at Wufei's skin, licking along the defined pectorals as if he would reform t he very flesh, although how he would improve on perfection, he had no idea.

Wufei's hands tightened along his back, balling his T-shirt up in his grip when Zechs' talented mouth nipped gently at the Asian man's nipples, bringing the pouting flesh to full attention. Zechs smiled to himself once again. He could feel the exhaustion still trembling in Wufei's body, whispering along the Asian man's muscles like a dread promise. Despite how his lover had been trying to hide it from him, Zechs could feel how close to breaking Wufei really was.

Well, there was more than one way to skin a cat. Or should that be more than one way to soothe a dragon?

Zechs let his lips wander freely over Wufei's flesh, his tongue darting out sporadically to lap at the flushed skin, tantalizing and teasing, but in no recognizable pattern. His hands caressed and massaged his lover's erection, alternating between gentle feather touches ghosting over the heated shaft, to firm, demanding strokes. Above him, Wufei's breath began to get raspy and uneven, punctuated now and then by throaty, wet moans.

Wufei's grip shifted to Zechs' hair, the long fingers burying themselves in the thick mane of pale gold. Zechs shifted his grip to Wufei's thighs, running his hands up and down the taut muscles while he bestowed worshipful kisses along the firm washboard stomach before him. Wufei squirmed a little in his grasp, a small hiss of displeasure slipping through his pursed lips as Zechs abandoned his erection.

"Something wrong, love?" Zechs murmured sweetly against bronzed skin.

"Zechs..." Wufei growled dangerously.

The blond bit back a wicked chuckle as he dipped his head lower, lapping the weeping tip of Wufei's shaft teasingly.

His lover's whole body seemed to shudder and fold in on itself as a startled moan burst from Wufei's lips.

"That's better," Zechs murmured, pausing to rub his cheek against the velvet steel of Wufei's manhood.

Before the Asian man could bite out a response or complaint, Zechs drew back enough to take Wufei fully into his mouth, enfolding the Asian man in liquid ambrosia. He felt Wufei's fingers tighten almost painfully on his scalp as he stroked the underside of his lover's erection with his tongue. He couldn't stop the self-satisfied groan from working its way up his throat, which only made Wufei shudder and gasp once again.

"God...Zechs... I-"

"Hmmm?" the blond hummed in inquiry, a devilish twinkle lighting in his eyes as he peered up at Wufei's slack face.

"Kisama," Wufei hissed, his jaw clenching was he fought back the wave of pleasure sweeping over him and threatening to steal his sanity.

Zechs continued stroking his lover, relaxing his throat to take the Asian man as fully into him as he could, while his hands worked a counterpoint tempo along Wufei's thighs. He increased his pace, pulling back once in a while to blow gently across the heated shaft of firm flesh he was busy trying to devour.

He felt Wufei's body tense up, and the Asian man's head fell back upon his shoulders once again, warning his lover. With one last hum of impish merriment, Zechs drew his lover fully into his mouth again in time to collect Wufei's gift as the Asian man's climax struck him like a bolt of fire and lightning. He exploded into the blonde's throat, a hitched-breath moan bursting from his lips like a promise in the still dawn morning. The same promise he made every time he looked into his lover's ocean deep blue eyes.

Wufei gave himself over to the wave of mind-numbing pleasure that was threatening to tilt his world off its axis, not trying to master the sensation, but simply enduring it, clutching it and holding it as long as he could. Slowly, infinitely slowly, the world started to fade back into view. Dimly, as if from a thousand miles away, he could feel his lover licking the last traces of his seed from his still flushed skin. He opened his eyes, blinking at the sudden brightness of the room, the way the colors all seemed to bleed into one another, while flashing with brilliance and individuality he'd never noticed before. He wanted to lean down and claim his lover's lips in a grateful kiss, but somehow, he just couldn't muster up the energy to do so. He barely had the strength to utter a sated sigh.

"Feel better?" Zechs asked him quietly, his chest rumbling comfortingly against Wufei's knees and legs.

"Aa."

"Good. You should sleep now," Zechs instructed, settling to lay his head in Wufei's lap.

"Aa."

"I bet the bedroom is far more comfortable than staying sprawled in a hard kitchen chair all day."

"Aa."

Zechs smiled to himself triumphantly as he shifted enough to get his feet under him. Before Wufei could protest the movement, Zechs had scooped him into his arms, draping his lover's arms over his shoulders and laying Wufei's head against his neck.

"You did this on purpose," Wufei whispered tiredly.

"Hm?" Zechs replied, all innocence.

"Wore me out..."

"You were already worn out, love. I'm just taking you to bed," Zechs replied smoothly as he navigated them to their bedroom.

"Aa."

Zechs slipped through their doorway with long-practiced ease, thankful that he was strong enough that he could kneel and gently lay his lover on their shared bed, rather than dropping or tossing him gracelessly. Of course, it helped that Wufei wasn't as heavy as most of the other people Zechs had been forced to pick up and carry in his career as a firefighter.

He settled his lover carefully on the featherbed, disentangling himself long enough to gently work Wufei's jeans down his legs and discard them into the hamper. Coming back to Wufei's torso, he carefully slipped the denim shirt off of the Asian man's shoulders. As he tried to draw away to toss the shirt in the hamper to join the jeans, Wufei's arms snaked up and wound around Zechs' shoulders. Trapping him.

"Love?"

"Come back to bed," Wufei murmured sleepily.

"I'm still all sweaty from my jog..."

"I don't care. I want you here," Wufei replied, punctuating the statement with a firm tug that tumbled the pliable blond into bed beside him.

"Very well. If I must," Zechs responded with mock resignation.

"Aa."

Zechs kicked the blankets up over them both, intending to stay long enough for Wufei to slip into deep sleep. He hadn't counted on his own weariness, however, for shortly after his lover's breathing evened out into slumber, he drifted off into his own dark cloak of sleep.


	12. Chapter 11

Awareness slowly oozed back into his fuzzy mind. The length of time it was taking for said awareness to return was alarming to the normally active and aware man. Prussian blue eyes blinked sleepily awake, watering painfully as if he'd just been in a fire.

With the slow creep of wakefulness, memory also seeped into being; he HAD just been through a fire. An embarrassed flush crept up his cheeks as he remembered being violently ill at Duo's feet. And that brief moment between vomiting and the blessed oblivion that had overtaken him.

He could only pray that either Duo hadn't actually heard what he'd said, or wouldn't be curious enough to ask about it.

And there was about as much chance of that happening as there was of Heero getting laid in the next two hours: slim, none, and not only improbable, but inconceivable.

A quiet sort of rage stole over the Japanese man. Partly at himself for having been so weak in the first place. He was stronger than that. He HAD to be. There was no other option he would allow himself. Partly at Duo for having been the unfortunate witness to Heero's breakdown.

Heero gritted his teeth, grinding his frustrations out through his clenched jaw. It was easier and more satisfying to be angry at the braided baka than himself. After all, Duo had already proved to be an annoying pain in the ass. Why else would they both have been in this lousy hospital to begin with?

He finally opened his eyes fully, turning his head a little to glance over at his roommate's bed. His roommate's empty bed. Although the blankets were thrown back messily, in typical Duo fashion, and a couple of comic books lay spread atop the disheveled sheets.

Heero sat up, wincing as a lance of pain stabbed through his abused brain momentarily. Once the pain subsided, he swung his legs out of bed and sat, debating giving in to his urge to be up and around. It was seeing Duo's bed, sitting so empty and serene that decided him. That and the nagging memory of the braided man having seen Heero collapse. Of course, the idea that occurred to him as his eyes alit on the full pitcher of water, the box of latex gloves, and the thumbtacks in the bulletin board across the room didn't hurt either.

He hopped gingerly to his feet and padded to the door. Checking both ways to make sure the coast was clear, and would hopefully remain so for the next few minutes, he gave in to the baser urges tickling his brain. Besides, if he could engage the braided driver's mischievous nature, it might curb his insatiable curiosity long enough for him to forget Heero having uttered those incriminating words before he'd passed out.

Slim hope, but hope nonetheless.

* * *

It felt good to stretch his legs again. His last walk had been rather disastrously aborted when the fire alarms had started blaring and he'd rushed off to find the fire, only to discover that Heero seemed to have it well under control.

At least until afterwards when his partner had collapsed in the hall and started spewing everything his stomach had even thought it had ingested in the last few days. And then those eyes. Those haunted, tortured, agonized Prussian blue eyes whose mere memory even now sent shivers up Duo's spine. If he never saw that expression on Heero's face again, it would be too soon.

He'd have to find out what was up with that as soon as he could talk again. Heero had some serious demons locked up inside.

With a cheerful wave at the nurse down the hall, Duo ducked back into his room. He paused, blinking in surprise as he realized that the room was empty now. Heero must have woken up and gone for his own walk. Well, that at least meant that his partner was feeling better than last night.

Duo flopped down on his bed, dropping his dry erase board on the table beside it, and collapsing back against his pillow to watch some morning TV.

He froze as his pillow seemed to fold in on itself, and a wave of something very very cold, and very wet, washed over his head, shoulders and back. He lay there, blinking in shock and surprise, for what seemed like an eternity, but since the ice water hadn't had a chance to completely soak into his sheets and bed when he finally reacted, had probably only been a few seconds.

He bit back his banshee wail and leapt from his bed, spinning around to stare at the sodden mess dripping from his now flat pillowcase with a wide-eyed and poleaxed gaze. Ignoring the way the frigid water crept down his spine, Duo spun around, casting his suspicious, and angry, glare throughout the room. Finding it empty, he could come to only one conclusion.

Heero.

Well, if that's the way he wanted to play their hospital stay, two could dance this particular tango.

Taking up the proverbial gauntlet with a malicious grin, Duo dashed off in search of the necessary components for his first masterpiece.

* * *

"Mr. Yuy, you should be resting," a thin masculine voice admonished him from behind.

Heero paused, turning to glance back at his doctor who had set down the charts he'd been looking at to approach the Japanese man.

"Hn. When can I go home?"

The doctor smiled cheerfully in answer.

"That's going to get to be a running gag with you, won't it Mr. Yuy? I'm afraid you will be finishing out your week with us. After you collapsed on us last night, I had you sent down for another battery of CT scans. While we didn't find anything abnormal in the tests, I'm still a little concerned with the collapse. I'd like to keep you for the rest of the week, and the fire department agrees."

"I could just walk out of here now, AMA," Heero commented dryly.

"Yes. Yes you could. However, I would recommend that you take that up with your Battalion Chief first. I have the feeling that checking yourself out AMA could cost you your job, Mr. Yuy."

Heero scowled in defeat.

"I'll make you a deal, Mr. Yuy. You promise me to stay until we discharge you, and I'll promise to continue to ignore the fact that you are out of bed and wandering around. How does that sound?"

The look Heero cast at the doctor was comical, both for its wryness, and for its severity. Clearly, the Japanese firefighter doubted the doctor's ability to do anything about said situation, anyway. Privately, the doctor thought that Heero was probably right.

With a nervous chuckle, he bid Heero a good morning, and made his escape.

* * *

As Heero approached the doorway to the room he shared with Duo, he stifled a groan. From the spaghetti jumble of wires, and the game console Heero could see from the open doorway, he could only guess that some madman had given Duo access to video games.

With a resigned sigh, Heero trudged into the room.

Duo sat in his bed, the head end elevated, and reclining nonchalantly against his pillow. He had a Playstation controller clutched in his hands and was busy bouncing merrily, and grinning at the images flashing across their TV. Heero spared a glance to see a giant robot machine busily shooting and looting everything in sight, including what appeared to be giant white ants that shot energy flashes from their heads.

Duo noted Heero's scrutiny and paused the game to snatch up his dry-erase board.

Armored Core - giant fighting robots! Wouldn't it be cool? Duo hastily scrawled.

"Hn."

Heero slid over to his precisely made bed and turned back a corner to climb back in. Duo didn't even look damp. Nor did he look suspicious. The nursing staff must have remade both of their beds before the braided baka had gotten back to find Heero's. `gift'. He'd have to try again later if Duo left.

It was only by sheer force of will that he bit back his startled curse as he slipped between the sheets and blanket. His legs and feet drew up short, hitting a barrier set up halfway down his bed. Flipping up the blanket, Heero peered down at the offending obstacle, growling almost inaudibly as he realized what had happened.

Someone had short-sheeted his bed.

Unerringly, his gaze darted over to the braided baka who was still focused with single-minded determination on the TV screen. Maybe his `gift' had been received.

Heero hopped back out of bed, not batting an eyelash as he stripped it down and remade it with military precision. Duo, for his part, affected not to notice, concentrating instead, by all appearances, on his video game.

By the time Heero was satisfied with the state of his bed, and had surreptitiously checked both the bed itself, and all the bedding, he'd gotten thirsty. He reached over and grabbed the pitcher from Duo's nightstand, only to discover that it was empty. Duo glanced over at him and mouthed an apology, shrugging as he pointed to his throat. Shaking his head, Heero slipped over to their bathroom, intending to fill it back up at their sink.

He snatched his hand back from the doorknob as soon as his hand closed around it, staring at his fingers with disgusted fascination. A snicker from behind him drew his attention away from the gooey mess coating his fingertips. He spun and stabbed a glare at Duo who was even now trying to stifle his laugh in the back of his hand.

"I'm gonna kill you, Duo," Heero growled, hitting the door latch with his elbow and kicking open the bathroom door.

Duo flipped up his message board, apparently having prepared it ahead of time.

Love you too, superstar

With a growl, Heero vanished into the bathroom to wash the disgusting mix of KY, liquid soap, and hand lotion off of his fingers. At least, he hoped that's what that mess had been.

He even remembered to fill the pitcher before he exited the bathroom to wipe down the handle. He paused as he started to return to bed, and vanished back in the bathroom for a moment, returning with a fresh, still wrapped cup, rather than trusting the integrity of the one on his night stand. He tossed a triumphant smirk at Duo's exaggerated pout before he settled back on his bed and unwrapped the fresh cup.

Settling back on the bed, he poured himself a cup of water and slid under his blanket once more.

And once again had to bite back the startled curse of rage that threatened to over take him.

As he set the cup aside and stripped his bedding down again to remake it, he had to admit a grudging sort of perverse respect for the braided driver. Duo must possess an amazing amount of talent to have short-sheeted the bed again in the small amount of time Heero had been in the bathroom.

Across the room, from his own bed, Duo's eyes streamed tears of mirth as he watched the aggrieved Japanese man fix his bed once again. Duo spared a glance at the table where the water-soluble glue he'd applied to hold the bottom of the "fresh" cup intact, started giving way.

Heero turned back to the table, picking up the cup with a violent jerk of his hand and lifting it to take a sip.

Unfortunately, the bottom of the cup stayed behind, and the contents splashed all over the table and floor.

Heero paused, empty cup frozen at his lips, and a perplexed, surprised expression playing across his face.

Duo seized the opportunity to escape, throwing off his blankets and dashing towards the door before his partner could regain his composure.

With his robe and gown flapping in the breeze created by his passage, Duo listened to Heero's enraged growl bursting from the room far behind him, and reflected that this would be a long, if entertaining, week.

He found himself pitying the hospital staff. A lot.

* * *

Wufei stepped out of the elevator, shifting the two sacks he was clutching to allow the two nurses waiting impatiently at the doors to dive past him. One of them paused, turning to spear him with an unreadable look. She took in his fire department uniform and his armload of sacks and then shook her head.

"Good luck. You might want to throw some scrubs on before you hit ground zero," she called to him as the doors shut.

He stood there, staring perplexedly for a few moments before he turned on his heel and headed down the hall.

He halted for a moment as he entered the hallway that housed Heero and Duo's room, confused by the sounds of what appeared to be a fierce struggle coming from near the end of the hall. Near the end of the hall by Heero and Duo's room. Right by Heero and Duo's room, in fact.

A muffled Japanese curse drifted from their open doorway, and was followed by a particularly loud THUMP. A small cloud of something suspiciously like thin white smoke erupted from the open doorway, spilling Duo ingloriously out onto the hard linoleum on his rump. He scrambled back to his feet, tossing a small plastic canister back through the door before he turned on his heel and started pelting down the hall for dear life. He spotted Wufei standing a few doors down, and with what looked like an expression of blissful relief, dove for cover behind the Chinese man.

"Maxwell! Get back here!" Heero choked out harshly.

Duo cowered playfully behind Wufei as Heero tumbled out the door, covered from head to toe with talcum powder, while clutching a pair of heavy scissors in one hand, and a crumpled Polaroid picture in the other. There was a murderous look of rage in his blue eyes that not even the humorously thick coating of powder could dispel.

"K'so. What did you do this time, Maxwell?" Wufei muttered as he strode forward to placate Heero.

"Get out of my way, Wufei," Heero growled, brandishing the shears in the direction of Duo's braid.

"What's going on, Yuy?" Wufei demanded, maintaining his position between the foolhardy American and the enraged Japanese.

"This!" Heero hissed, thrusting the Polaroid into Wufei's face angrily as he attempted to dodge around and grab Duo.

Wufei quickly sidestepped, blocking Heero's path as he took the photo and peered at it.

His jaw dropped in shock.

"You really DO have a death wish, don't you, Maxwell?" Wufei sighed after a moment, shaking his head at the picture of Heero's formerly pristine white Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle.

Formerly.

Now, it was the most horrid shade of fluorescent puce, yes, puce, that Wufei had ever seen. It sat forlornly on a tarp in what appeared to be a parking garage, surrounded by buckets and used paintbrushes, splashes of the hideous pinkish color splattered all over the tarp, and streaked badly down the side of the motorcycle.

Not only was it painted a repulsive color now, but it had been horribly painted that repulsive color. Wufei shuddered.

Having been a victim of this particular joke, Wufei knew what the punchline was. With a sigh, he reached out and deftly disarmed Heero while keeping the two separated.

"Come on. Let's go, Yuy. Back to the room," he said, steering the Japanese man back into his hastily abandoned room.

"I'm gonna kill him, Wufei. No one touches Wing. Let me kill him, Wufei," Heero replied in a deadly calm voice.

"I can't let you do that, Heero. Now sit down, calm down, relax." Wufei said soothingly, handing Heero a damp towel to wipe all the powder off with.

Meanwhile Duo had slunk into the room, sneaking past the two Asian men until he had his dry-erase board once more clutched securely in his hands. Snickering, he scribbled something down on it, and then propped it on his bed, and fled the room once more.

Wufei watched the braided man scamper out with a resigned sigh.

"I brought you lunch," Wufei said, fishing cartons out of the sacks he still held as Heero stalked over and snatched up Duo's board.

"DUO! Omae o korosu!"

Wufei walked over, taking the board out of Heero's white- knuckled fingers and replacing it with a pair of chopsticks.

"Eat," he ordered, nodding towards Heero's table where steaming cartons awaited him.

Heero stood his ground for a long moment; his jaw clenched, and hands balled into fists as he stared at Duo's board. Wufei spared it a glance.

Hey. I hear Earl Schieb's got a special going on right now. 1- 800-JOKES-ON-YOU!

"I'm gonna kill him."

"It's water based paint," Wufei replied.

Heero's gaze shot over to meet Wufei's even stare.

"But." he said, pointing to the oil-based house paint cans sitting in the foreground of the Polaroid shot.

"Staged. Not even Maxwell is that demented. Or suicidal," Wufei added as an afterthought.

Heero blinked. He turned thoughtful as he padded over to his bed.

"He did it to me a year ago. It washes off. I promise."

"Hn. Baka," Heero muttered, nodding as he set his chopsticks beside the steaming cartons on his small table.

Carefully scooting his table out of the way, he methodically stripped off his bedding and set about remaking it once more. Wufei peered over his shoulder curiously as Heero pulled off the top blanket.

"Ah. Short-sheeted. Why not just leave it. You know he'll just do it again later," Wufei questioned curiously.

"Aa. But this gives him something to do. If he's busy short- sheeting my bed, he can't be setting off another shaving-cream bomb in my closet."

"Another?"

"Hn."

Wufei stifled a small chuckle on the back of his hand at the resigned tone of Heero's grunt.

"I'll. see about getting you hazard pay for this week. Or at least a bonus of some sort," Wufei deadpanned when Heero had gotten his bed remade.

"Hn."

Wufei shook his head and consulted his watch.

"I have to go. I'm expected back soon. I. uh. trust that you can make sure Maxwell gets his malt?" Wufei asked innocently, nodding towards the last sack sitting on Duo's little table.

Heero turned and met his gaze unflinchingly.

"Hn."

Wufei sighed, turning back at the door to spear Heero with a warning look.

"Don't kill him."

Heero's eyes narrowed dangerously, a small, wicked smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he nodded.

"Hn."

* * *

"Practical joke war?" Zechs asked his lover incredulously as they strode through the doors to the hospital.

"Yes. When last I left them this afternoon, Duo was ahead. I'm fairly sure Heero's evened the score by now."

"Am I the only one who thinks that sounds as dangerous as it does?" Zechs asked, shaking his head at Wufei's quiet acceptance.

"Actually, no. I'd be willing to bet that you could get the hospital staff on your side, too."

"They'll never treat another fireman again, after this, you realize," Zechs said as the two men entered the elevator.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. After all, they'll be so overjoyed when we finally take those two home, that the entire staff will be our willing slaves," Wufei replied archly.

"Point."

The elevator doors dinged and whooshed open. Surprisingly, there were no nurses waiting anxiously for escape on the other side this time. In fact, as Wufei and Zechs exited the elevator with their burdens of Japanese take-out and ice cream, the nurses waved cheerfully at them from the nurse's station.

"I don't know what it was that you did or said this afternoon, Mr. Chang, but thank you. It's been quiet all day since you left," a nurse called happily as the two bewildered firefighters crept down the hall to "ground zero."

"What did you say?" Zechs whispered out of the corner of his mouth as he returned the cheerful wave with a smile of his own.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Well, I did tell Yuy not to kill Maxwell."

Both men stopped dead in their tracks and stared at each other.

"He wouldn't disobey a direct order, would he?" Wufei asked quietly.

"We'd better go see."

They quickened their pace and sailed through the door to Heero and Duo's incredibly quiet room with a growing sense of dread.

From his comfortable repose in his own bed, Heero glanced up at the two men with a satisfied look.

Duo, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Even his bed was neatly made, and his personal effects were missing.

Wufei's gaze bounced from Duo's empty bed, to Heero and back again several times, each slightly more horrified than the last.

Heero carefully closed the book he'd been reading and set it on the table beside his bed. Then he met the stunned gazes of his Captain and Wufei evenly.

"You didn't." Zechs murmured, likewise peering around for a clue to the braided driver's whereabouts.

"I didn't what?" Heero asked calmly, "Kill him? No. No, he's alive."

Zechs blinked, confused by the self-satisfied, almost. kittenish look on Heero's face. Duo, he could see acting. kittenish. But Heero? Seeing that expression on Heero's face frankly terrified him.

A strangled groan from the bathroom startled Zechs and Wufei out of their contemplation. As one, they peered at the door, and then back at Heero in query.

Heero smiled. It was an evil, wicked, frightening smirk of a grin, but it was a grin nonetheless. Wufei felt a tingle, like a premonition of doom, race up his spine.

"Intestinal difficulties," Heero answered with dangerous calm, "Lunch must not have agreed with him."

Wufei blinked, holding up the sacks that he was carrying now, having come from the same place as the ones he'd brought in for lunch. Then he turned back to Heero and met the Japanese man's gaze evenly, one eyebrow cocked up in inquiry.

Heero shrugged, stifling another tiny smirk.

"Oh, Duo," Heero called cheerfully, which was in and of itself a frightening sound to behold, "Wufei and Zechs brought us dinner. How's the stomach?"

Silence greeted the question. After a moment, a slip of paper shot out from under the door, covered in Duo's hasty scribble.

Zechs stepped over and picked it up, sighing as he read it to the other two, "I'm gonna get you for this."

Heero's eyes narrowed contemplatively as another of those sadistic little smirks lit up his face.

"Hn. We'll see."

Zechs turned to his lover with a patently resigned expression.

"And the staff here has to live through another five days of this?" he asked quietly.

"Like I said. Willing slaves," Wufei agreed pleasantly.

While Heero was sorting his dinner out of the sacks Wufei had handed him, the bathroom door finally opened. A very pale, very exhausted, very ill looking Duo trudged out, shuffling to his neat bed. The dry erase board clattered to the table dully as Duo flung back the blankets, crawled into bed, and buried himself under the bedding, obviously intending on achieving unconsciousness.

"Aren't you hungry, Duo? Wufei brought you another malt," Heero asked with saccharine sincerity.

Duo's hand shot out of the huddled lump of bedding, flashing Heero a one-fingered salute.

"Tsk. You should eat. You'll only make yourself sicker if you starve yourself like this," Heero replied.

Duo's hand fished blindly along his table, finally encountering an empty cup, which he flung, unerringly at Heero.

Heero picked the hapless cup up, setting it carefully on his own table, before snapping apart his chopsticks and digging into his own dinner.

"If you insist, Duo," he said.

Duo resumed his one-fingered salute before the hand was withdrawn back into his cocoon. The braided man settled into a tight little ball, every inch of his body, and braid, carefully concealed within his shelter of bedding.

Well, Zechs definitely had to award the point on that last match to Heero. A prank that went off so well that the Braided Wonder couldn't instantly retaliate? Now THAT took skill.

Of course, revenge, as Duo often said, was a dish best served cold.

Zechs wondered if Heero truly comprehended exactly how big the tiger who's tail he had just yanked, really was.

Shaking their heads at the banter between the two, and dreading its eventual climax, Zechs and Wufei bid the injured firefighters a good evening and made good on their escape while the getting, as they say, was still good.

"It was just a fluke, wasn't it?" a wary female voice questioned them as they walked past the nurses' station.

Zechs turned, glancing back at the two women standing there.

"I can tell by the look on your face that tomorrow might be a good day to call in sick," one of the nurses said.

Zechs and Wufei both nodded solemnly.

"Hm. Maybe we can talk the doctor into sedating them both for the rest of the week," she replied, turning to address her companion speculatively.

"That might be a very good idea, ladies," Zechs said, "It's bound to get."

"Scary," the nurse finished for him with a small smile, "Yes. I see that. Thanks for the warning," she finished with a wave of farewell.

Zechs and Wufei returned her wave and then headed for the elevator. Not surprisingly, visitations to this particular floor had slackened off considerably over the last 24 hours, so they had the elevator to themselves as they rode to the lobby.

"I hope those two can survive this courtship," Zechs murmured to his partner.

Wufei closed his eyes, visions of screaming six-year-olds running helter skelter through his brain for some odd reason.

"Me too," he agreed as the doors dinged and whooshed open at the lobby, "Me too."


	13. Chapter 12

A random assortment of inane morning talk shows flashed past in rapid succession as Heero flipped through the channels they could get in their room. Duo was still carefully ensconced in the nest of blankets he'd mounded about himself the night before, blissfully snoring away. Heero had felt the smallest twinges of guilt last night as his partner tossed and turned restlessly, moaning occasionally in pain or discomfort. Maybe he'd used just a touch too much of the clinical strength laxative in Duo's lunch malt after all. Heero hadn't meant to make the braided driver quite as miserable as he' d apparently been, but damnit, NO ONE touched Wing with impunity!

He sighed, glancing over at his partner as Duo once again shifted restlessly. He'd probably be awakening soon. He'd already long since missed breakfast, Heero having taken pity on his roommate by forbidding the nurses to try to awaken Duo earlier. After all, it wasn't as if Duo would actually drink that. whatever it was that the nursing staff had tried to assure them both was a nutritious meal in liquid form. It may have been chemically more nutritious than a triple thick double chocolate malt, but even Heero, the consummate health-conscious firefighter, would have been hard pressed to try and choke the foul smelling, and all-too-pasty substance down.

The conscience he hadn't even known he'd had, especially when it came to Duo, started to nag him. Maybe he had been unnecessarily cruel to Duo last night. Besides, the pranks were escalating to a dangerous level rather early in their stay. Maybe he could make a peace offering of something actually edible for the braided driver. He needed to stretch his legs anyway.

Coming to a decision, Heero flipped the TV off and slipped out of bed, in search of food for his partner. As he slipped out the door, Duo finally emerged from his cocoon, his amethyst eyes darting over to Heero's empty bed searchingly. Heero's absence was noted with a hostile glare, bordering almost on hateful for its intensity. A calculating gleam entered the braided man's expression as he gingerly climbed from his bed. After sparing a few moments to short-sheet Heero's bed, Duo, too, slipped from the room, and from the slink in his step, he had nefarious deeds on his mind.

* * *

Finding edible food in the hospital proved to be a far greater challenge than Heero had anticipated. It shouldn't have surprised him, considering his surroundings, however, it did task his patience. After a 20 minute search, he'd finally had to resort to badgering a nurse into running down to the hospital cafeteria to rustle up something.

As he wandered back to his room, Heero mused about how advantageous that may end up being after all. It was unlikely that Duo would accept any food from Heero, no matter how hungry he was. It would seem too suspicious coming on the heels of the day before. Besides, from Duo's perspective, it might look like Heero was admitting defeat and conceding the Prank War to Duo. Which he wasn't; he was merely trying to slow the escalation before one of the two of them killed the other.

But having a nurse bring him a meal, that would seem less suspicious. Heero nodded to himself as he returned to their room. The combative glare Duo threw at him as he walked through their door would have rocked Heero back on his heels if he hadn't been expecting it. It was, perhaps, a little bit more venomous than he'd been anticipating, but he really had hit Duo in his vulnerable spot. The braided man probably wouldn't be able to eat another chocolate malt for a while now, thanks to Heero's little prank.

Shaking his head, Heero ignored Duo's glare and set about stripping off his bedding and remaking the glorified cot. Once finished, he settled himself on his bed and watched Duo pound the snot out of a group of giant robots in his video game. He had to grudgingly admit that Duo was rather good at the game, and seemed to have an uncanny instinct for the tactics of it. For a brief moment, he found himself wondering what it would have been like to have had Duo as his partner back when Heero had still worked for Dr. J and the Foundation.

With a near inaudible growl, he shook his head and thrust those thoughts from his mind. That was a chapter of his life that had not only been closed, but the whole book had been burned. To ash. If he was lucky, that was. He grabbed their pitcher and poured himself a glass, distracting himself by concentrating on how water had condensed to the side of the container in small droplets. He almost gagged when he knocked the glass back in a single gulp. Whatever it was had been so sweet, he could feel his teeth starting to ache, just from the aftershock.

With a snort, he peered into the pitcher and grimaced. Green Kool-Aid. With about three times the normal amount of sugar by the taste of it. It was so sweet, it left an almost musty taste on the back of his throat. He grimaced, pushing the pitcher away without getting a second glass as he'd originally been planning.

On his own bed, Duo watched the little drama with a secretive smirk teasing the corners of his mouth. He bounced a triumphant little bed dance, and then turned his full concentration back to the video game.

A few minutes later, a nurse knocked and then slipped into the room, carrying a tray laden with an assortment of runny eggs, pudding, soggy hash browns and thin sausage gravy, and juices.

"Mr. Maxwell? I brought you something to eat since you missed breakfast," she said softly, her nervous glance occasionally bouncing off of Heero.

Duo noted her nervousness, glanced over at Heero suspiciously, and then paused his game to firmly cross his arms over his chest, flatly refusing the meal. The implication that Heero had something to do with the food hadn't been lost on the braided driver, and he wasn't planning on falling for that particular gag twice in as many days.

"Is there something wrong? I mean, I tried to find you stuff that wouldn 't hurt your throat." she said uncertainly.

You got this for me? He didn't? Duo hastily scrawled on his dry erase board, nodding sharply at Heero.

"Oh no. They wouldn't let him anywhere near the kitchen!" she assured him quickly.

Duo snorted ungraciously as he scribbled on his board again.

Smart people.

The nurse blinked, at a loss for a moment, as she peered first at Duo, then at Heero, and back at Duo again.

"I can. uh. take this back, if you want."

Duo gesticulated wildly for a moment, halting her and beckoning her over. With a smile, she complied, depositing the tray on his table and turning to leave.

"Can I get anything for you, Mr. Yuy?" she asked nervously, edging towards the door.

Heero shook his head, stifling a large yawn on the back of his hand as she nodded gratefully and fled.

Duo tapped his bed frame to draw Heero's attention to the message he'd written on the board.

What'd ya do to make her so nervous?

Heero shrugged, trying to swallow back another yawn. He wasn't going to give any more answer than that, but his mouth just seemed to take off without his approval.

"Hard to find edible soft food in a hospital. Got frustrated I guess," h e murmured.

Duo's eyes grew wide with disbelief. He abandoned his meal to scrawl down another message to Heero on his board, but the Japanese man couldn't seem to make his eyes focus on the shiny white surface enough to make sense of the words. The world was getting kinda. fuzzy. And thick.

Heero slowly oozed back against his pillows, settling into their embrace comfortingly. Heavy. Everything was getting heavy. Yet somehow, despite this sudden lassitude that was stealing over him, he didn't feel the slightest urge to actually sleep.

Duo made a small, choked cough right before a strange, yet annoyingly cheerful, male voice broke into Heero's musings.

"Good morning, Mr. Yuy! Time for your barium enema!"

His what?

"Mr. Maxwell, you should be in bed, finishing your breakfast. Please, Mr. Maxwell, I need you to get out of my way. That's it. Thank you. No. No, that's all right, I don't want to see your pretty board."

Heero opened his eyes and concentrated his full attention on trying to focus, managing only to make himself slightly dizzy as he saw Duo dancing around almost madly in an effort to get the male nurse to read his dry erase board. Heero blinked rapidly, trying to gather his thoughts as he was efficiently ushered to their bathroom, and the door firmly shut, locking Duo out.

It was getting so hard to order his thoughts. What was going on again? And why did the world seem to be so. heavy?

"There you go, Mr. Yuy. Now don't you worry. I've done this dozens of times. You're in good hands."

Good hands? Good hands for wh-

A startled yelp escaped his mouth, and the whole world suddenly leapt into focus. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it, except silently scream at that part of him that had actually felt guilty about that braided baka.

That, and plot exactly how many ways one could murder someone without leaving any evidence.

* * *

Duo started guiltily as a figure strode purposefully into their room, laden with yet another batch of the familiar take out sacks. He was surprised to see that it was Zechs, rather than Wufei today.

"Afternoon, Duo, Heero," Zechs said, carefully depositing the sacks on Heero's table.

Duo winced as he watched Zechs sort out the sacks.

"One extra thick malt, chocolate, and two large miso soups for you, Duo and. Heero? Heero, lunch. Wake up."

Duo shrank back into his bedding, tucking the blanket around him like a shield as Zechs tried to rouse his roommate. Unsuccessfully.

"Duo? What's wrong with Heero?" Zechs asked curiously, his eyes narrowing as he took in Duo's almost timid cower.

Duo winced again as he reached for his board.

"What did you do, Duo?"

He's sleeping off a tranquilizer.

"A tranquilizer? Why is he sleeping off a tranquilizer, and what did you have to do with it?" Zechs demanded.

Don't ask. Safer that way.

"Duoooo."

The braided driver gulped nervously, withdrawing back into his impromptu shelter.

Zechs sighed explosively, running a hand through his bangs and shaking his head as he contemplated the pair.

"I know that look, Duo. Bit off more than you can chew this time, didn't you? I don't want to have to bail one of the two of you out of jail," he said warningly.

Zechs peered at Heero's ashen face, and the way the Japanese man, even while unconscious, held a handful of his sheets in a vicious deathgrip.

"I don't know what else you did to him, Duo, but I do not envy you when he wakes up," Zechs said forebodingly.

Duo emerged from his protective nest long enough to flash Zechs a new message from his board.

Spring me? Please? I'll recoup at home where it's safe.

"Your grave. You dug it. You sleep in it," Zechs replied, shaking his head.

Fraid you were gonna say something like that.

Duo retreated back into his fabric shell as Zechs packed Heero's sacks back up.

"I'll leave these at the nurse's station. Maybe you can bribe him with food when he wakes up," Zechs said, pausing to toss another glance over at the unconscious firefighter, "But probably not. I'll write you a nice eulogy."

Nothing more than an uncomfortable shifting, and a startled squeak answered Zechs as he left their shared room.

"Good luck, Maxwell. You'll need it."

* * *

Dr. Sorenson's steps fell into the thick silence of the empty hallway like miniature death knells. Which they were, of a sort. The death of prank war at any rate, come hell or high water. He steeled his determination as he paused right outside THEIR room, the 'war room', as every nurse in the building had started calling it. The prospect of facing that rather intimidating young Japanese man made his innards clench uncomfortably, but if Dr. Sorenson didn't do something soon, he wouldn't have any staff left.

He concentrated on maintaining his huff, and stepped into the room. It was like walking into a deep freeze. The emotional chill in the air between the two firefighters was so palpable, it was literally a physical sensation. Like an ice cold shower, only much deadlier.

Heero was awake, sitting up in his bed, still looking slightly green around the gills, so to speak. His arms were crossed over his chest defiantly as he stared, no glared, at the huddled mass of blankets that Dr. Sorenson could only guess was Duo.

As for the braided firefighter, there was neither hide nor hair peeking out of the cocoon.

"Mr. Maxwell. Mr. Yuy," he said in his most commanding voice.

Heero's glare suddenly snapped to his face, softening a little into a sullen pout. Duo peeked out of his nest, his unruly bangs still managing to shield what little of his face he'd exposed.

"I have tried to be patient. I have tried to be understanding. I have even tried to be amused by your constant. antics. However," he said, his voice deepening with suppressed anger, "I can stand it no longer.

"There isn't a nurse left, male or female, who is willing to set foot in this wing, let alone this hall, and your room? They'd rather face deer season naked with a pair of antlers strapped to their head and a case of beer on their flanks! I'm at my wit's end! I can't even bribe anyone with holiday hazard pay to work this wing!

"The cause? YOU!" he yelled, stabbing an accusatory finger at the pair of them.

Amazingly, even Heero had the grace to look sheepish.

"Which leaves me only one alternative. It ends now. No more pranks, no more retaliation, no more jokes, not even a bawdy remark. Period. Only, how to enforce this? I spent all day considering that very quandary. Luckily, I actually came to a solution.

"If I catch wind of you, Mr. Maxwell, forging another order for an invasive medical procedure, or even anything as innocuous as planting a whoopee cushion, I'll have you shipped up to the Geriatric ward for an additional week. I think you'd enjoy it there, Mr. Maxwell. The patients there are just dying for some nice, attentive, non-talkative," he said, emphasizing Duo's condition with a narrowing of his eyes and a slight nod of his head, "company. Think long and hard about that."

Heero's eyes narrowed triumphantly as Duo let out a panicked squeak.

"And you, Mr. Yuy. Don't think you'll be getting off easy either. If I catch you even so much as EYEING him with evil intent, I'll ship you off to Pediatrics so fast, you'll leave your socks behind! Better yet, Pediatric Oncology. Dozens of youngsters, restricted to the hospital for weeks and even months at a time, bored, full of pent up energy, and you'd become their new. best. friend. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Yuy?" he asked dangerously.

Heero, meanwhile, had paled to the color of fresh snow.

"I see that I do."

He spared them each another significant glare before backing towards the door.

"There will not be another warning," he said, letting the threat sink in as he retreated before his knocking knees gave him away.

Back in the room, Duo emerged slowly from his blankets and stared, wide-eyed, at the door the doctor had vanished through. After a long moment, he turned his frightened gaze upon Heero's sallow face.

As their eyes made contact, the unspoken agreement to gracefully lay down their respective gauntlets until they were discharged was almost as obvious and physical as the earlier chill had been.

"How about some Springer?" Heero asked nervously, flipping on the TV with the remote and hunkering down on his bed.

Duo nodded emphatically, shifting apprehensively until he, too, had rolled into a tight curl on his bed, likewise trying to banish images of his own private hell by distracting his mind with insipid afternoon TV drivel.

Silence once more descended over the hall, but somehow, this silence was much less ominous than the last. At least for the staff.

* * *

Even with the Doctor's assurances that everything was dealt with and once again safe, it took another 12 hours to coax the staff into returning to their regular duties in that hall. Even then, they all spooked easily, like rabbits during hunting season.

However, when they saw the near angelic behavior of the two bed-ridden (or supposedly) firefighters, word spread quickly, and life returned to normal by the end of the following day.

Dr. Sorenson heaved a sigh of relief. Only a few more days. In only a few more days, he could release them both, and then if the whole city burned down, it would no longer be his responsibility.

* * *

An uneasy truce developed between the pair. Neither one was really ready to trust that the other wouldn't set his partner up, but some habits were harder than the Doctor's threats to break.

Duo continued short-sheeting Heero's bed at every chance he got, while Heero continued taking it for granted that his bed would be short-sheeted any time he left it unattended.

Heero bore it with stoic determination, realizing what an integral part of Duo's personality it was to play. Besides, it was something familiar in a disturbingly unfamiliar environment. He hated infirmity. Especially within himself. Duo's antics were a predictable anchor, which, if Heero were being honest with himself, he would sorely miss if Duo were to actually bow to the Doctor's threats and abandon.

Besides, it seemed to be helping keep the braided man happy.

Heero shook his head at that thought. Partner or no, what did it matter if Duo were happy? Other than those gut-wrenchingly pitiful 'puppy-dog-eyes' Duo seemed to indulge in when he wasn't happy.

Heero shuddered. That was a sight he would try to avoid at all costs. It did strange things to the pit of his stomach when Duo's face took on that expression. That odd, fluttery, uncomfortable feeling was almost as bad, if not worse, than the feeling of self-depreciation at being stuck in the hospital.

He found his thoughts turning more and more often towards Duo and the braided driver's effect on Heero's own moods, thought patterns, and over all demeanor. Which would only serve to bring a fresh glare to the Japanese firefighter's face as he realized how much time his musings occupied.

Especially when Duo would awaken him in the middle of the night, his soft whimpers heralding yet another nightmare. Nightmares which the driver seemed to be enthralled by with alarming regularity. Heero began wondering where Duo got all of the energy he had from. It obviously wasn't from sleep.

Heero found himself actually looking forward to the time when Duo could speak again. Perhaps then he could get to the bottom of the mystery.

* * *

"Very carefully," Dr. Sorenson instructed, "Say 'Ah.' If it hurts too much, then stop immediately, all right?"

Duo nodded and complied, his voice rusty and scratchy with disuse, but serviceable.

Dr. Sorenson peered carefully down Duo's throat, spotlighting every millimeter with his penlight as Duo obeyed his direction. With a satisfied nod, and a pleased grunt, Dr. Sorenson backed up a pace and motioned for Duo to close his mouth again.

"Very good, Mr. Maxwell. It looks very good. I think it's safe for you to start talking again, in moderation," he admonished gently, "And it also looks like we should be able to discharge you tomorrow afternoon."

"Really? Cool!" Duo rasped, tossing a wide grin to his partner seated across the room.

"Yes. And according to your final CT scan, Mr. Yuy, you should be able to be discharged tomorrow as well. Everything seems to have checked out well, with no lasting effects."

"Hn."

Dr. Sorenson smiled at the relieved grunt.

"I hope you will both be more careful in the future. The staff signed a petition that if you get hurt again, you're getting sent over to Mercy, rather than here at Saints. Mercy," he said confidentially, "has already gotten wind of you both and are sending around their own petition to have you both shipped out of town, should you ever get hurt. I highly recommend that you both stay healthy."

Heero snorted while Duo indulged in a stiff laugh.

Dr. Sorenson smiled sagely at them both, but the twinkle in his eyes belied the mirth behind his threat. With a final warning to behave themselves and stay healthy, the doctor left their room to continue on his rounds.

"Last day, Heero," Duo said, grinning at his roommate.

"Hn. Live it up. Cease-fire is over after tomorrow night."

Duo paled suddenly, realizing what prank Heero would be getting his revenge for.

"Hey. uh. For what it's worth. I tried to get him to stop."

Heero turned a devilish smirk on his partner as he answered, "I'll take that into consideration, Maxwell."

Somehow, that thought didn't comfort Duo very much.

* * *

"Hey, guys! I hear congratulations are in order!" an overly hyper female crowed from their doorway late that night.

"Hilde?" Duo called, turning down the TV as he shifted his attention to the door.

Heero watched as an athletic young woman with an infectious smile and a bouncy step careened into their room, arms laden with a heavy paper sack.

"Hey Duo! Hi Heero! Heard through the grapevine that you guys get sprung tomorrow!"

"Through the grapevine?" Duo asked.

"Yeah. Sally's been full of stories about you two and how you've been terrorizing the staff here over the last week. I heard something about a petition and Mercy. Anyway, she let me sneak in after visiting hours to see you and celebrate," Hilde said, winking conspiratorially as she extricated the contents of the sack from the heavy brown paper.

Duo's eyes grew large and round and an excited giggle burbled on his lips as the twelve-pack of beer came into sight.

"Hilde, yer the best!"

"Live it up now, braid-boy. You're buying the next round."

Hilde pulled up a chair between the two beds and opened up the case, tossing a can to Duo, taking one herself, and flipping another to Heero.

"So what have we missed while we've been stuck in here?" Duo asked, popping the tab on his can with a hiss.

"Let's see.. Three house fires, four good accidents, a minor Haz Mat response. Nothing big there, just an ammonia spill on the interstate. Ummm. I lost count of all the aid calls. who cares about the automatic alarms. Umm.. A near drowning, and a partridge in a pear tree," she answered perkily.

Duo's face fell as he knocked back half the can.

"Sounds like it was a good week," he sighed wistfully, "Eh, Heero?"

Heero was still contemplating the can in his hands as he glanced back up at Duo and finally nodded.

"It's not going to bite you. Just pop the top, raise to lips, tip back, and drink," Hilde instructed, exasperated, "Unless you're too good to drink with the likes of us," she continued challengingly.

Heero's eyes narrowed, his gaze locking on hers purposefully as he opened his can and drained half the contents in a single gulp.

"At a boy. Anyone who actually survived being cooped up with him," she said, indicating Duo with a jerk of her thumb, "deserves a brewsky or ten."

Heero snorted with amusement as Duo spluttered indignantly. Hilde smiled indulgently as she started relaying anecdotes of the last week to the pair.

They passed the next hour or so, working their way steadily through the twelve-pack while Hilde brought them back up to speed. As she finished regaling them with Trowa and Quatre's adventure with one patient's overly affectionate pet pot-bellied pig, she glanced at her watch and blinked with surprise.

"Geeze! I gotta go! I was supposed to meet the girls at the bar half an hour ago! Sorry to run like this, but I'll see you guys later, okay?" she said, tossing her two empty cans in the trash on her way to the door.

Before Heero or Duo could do much more than wave, she'd vanished, having blown out the door with the same whirlwind speed that she'd arrived with.

"Heh. That's my Hilde," Duo mused, tossing back the last dregs of his third can.

"Your Hilde?" Heero asked, curious, as he tossed Duo a fresh can.

"She's like my little sis. We grew up together for a little while once," Duo answered, his voice getting soft and his expression growing wistful and slightly guarded.

"Hn. When?"

Duo shook his head, as if awakening from a dream. He eyed Heero warily from under his lashes as he took a long sip and replied, "A while ago. Old news."

Heero frowned. Even if he was working on his fourth beer in less than an hour, he could still smell an evasion when he saw one.

Before he had a chance to confront Duo with his observation, Duo was speaking again.

"That kinda reminds me, Heero. Been meaning to ask you this since the other night, but. heh. ya know. With the fire, and the no talking, and everything else going on." Duo said with a grin.

Heero could feel a tight knot of dread building in the pit of his stomach.

"Who's Odin?"

Deep within him, he felt that ball of dread freeze into sheer, raw, terror. A childish voice within him whimpered and withdrew, seeking refuge in his normal silence.

The soldier within him, however, remembered Duo's tactical slip up that first night. The soldier struck without thinking, going for the kill mercilessly.

"Who's Helen?" he snapped back defensively.

Duo's curious grin froze on his lips, and then faded into hurt silence. The same sort of guarded quiet he'd retreated to when Heero had asked him about Hilde. He tipped his can back and emptied it in a series of desperate, deep gulps, finishing his fourth beer in under a minute. Blindly, he reached down and fished one of the last two beers out of the cardboard case.

"How do you now that name?" he finally asked, his voice deadly quiet as he opened the can with a click and a hiss.

"You called out for her when you had a nightmare that first night."

"Ah."

Duo retreated into his thoughts, ignoring his roommate as Heero finished off the beer he'd been sipping. Tossing away the empty can, Heero fished the last one out of the now empty twelve-pack and grabbed the remote to flip the TV back on.

"I'm an orphan."

Heero paused mid-reach, turning his attention back to Duo, frowning at the still quality to his partner's voice. Duo stared straight ahead, his gaze locked onto his stretched out legs under his blanket.

"No biggie, right?" he asked with a self-depreciative laugh, "I mean, these days it's like odd for a kid to have parents."

"How old were you?"

Duo shrugged, knocking back half his beer.

"Dunno. Never knew em. Was always an orphan. Grew up on the streets. 'S' all I remember. The streets and Solo."

"Solo?"

"Grew up in a street gang. Solo was in charge. He took care of us. All of us. Till. Till the fever."

He fell silent for a long while. Heero peered at him, a frown on his face at the dead, expressionless, too-calm mask on Duo's face.

"The fever. That outbreak of pneumonia back in '87," Duo finally murmured.

Heero wracked his brain, thinking back. He vaguely remembered that. It ran rampant through the homeless shelters and the halfway houses. It had also struck nursing homes and schools as well, but most of those people had been able to afford to go to the hospital, and deaths had been few and light.

The streets and homeless shelters had been another story. Those too poor to afford treatment had died by the droves. Heero shuddered as he considered the implications. In 87, he'd been only 8. He and Duo were the same age.

"Solo got sick first," Duo continued, his voice finally blurring a little, although whether it was with emotion or intoxication, Heero couldn't be sure.

"Real sick. I snuck int'a hospital and stole some stuff t' try an' make him better. But it was too late. Gave it t' th' rest of the gang. Solo died 'n m' arms."

Heero slowly sipped at his beer. Duo had given the medicine to the rest of the gang, but he made no mention of having used any himself. Heero didn't think that omission had been a mistake.

This 'Solo' must have been very important to his partner.

"'S where I got my name," Duo continued, almost as if he was following Heero's train of thought, "Duo. Solo. No one else got sick.

"But Solo was gone. They all looked t' me. Had t' take care of 'em all. Learned t' be a better thief. Not good 'nuff, though. Got caught once. Thought I was a goner for sure. 'Cept. he didn't get mad. Asked me why I was stealin'. Told 'im I had t' get food for th' others. He got this funny look on his face an' then he gave me all his money. Told me he ran this shelter over at St. Mary's. Old St. Mary's. Told me t' bring all th' kids in for a hot meal."

Duo paused once again, lost in thought, allowing Heero to analyze Duo's story.

Point one: Duo was a thief. Had been a thief. Which meant one of three things. Either he'd either been caught as a juvenile, or he'd never been caught. Or somehow he'd managed to cover his tracks somehow to have passed the background check to become a firefighter.

Point two: old St. Mary's had been a beautiful old gothic Catholic Church and shelter back in the mid 80's. Then it had burnt to the ground, killing quite a few people. They'd rebuilt it about five years ago, and had opened an academy school while they were at it. Heero was familiar with the St. Mary's fire; it had happened when he was only 9 years old, but he remembered that fire vividly. That would have been less than a year after Duo had apparently run into the shelter's coordinator.

Point three: Duo had said that this guy had told him to bring the kids. Not the other kids, but the kids. Which meant that Duo, at 8 years old, no longer thought of himself as a kid.

Heero frowned.

"Lived offa that money fer a week. Ran out though. So hard takin' care of them all. 'S hard findin' 'nuff food. Started takin' 'em all in t' St. Mary's. They took 'em all in. He said he'd find 'em all homes. Took care of 'em."

"What about you?" Heero asked quietly.

Duo blinked, glancing over to meet Heero's gaze for a moment. He swallowed convulsively, before looking nervously away. Heero hadn't been fooled. Duo's gaze had been far too lucid to blame the slur on the beer.

"What 'bout me?" he asked with a shrug.

"Did you stay on the streets?"

Duo shook his head, concentrating hard on the rim of his beer can.

"They took me in too," Duo said clearly before his voice dropped to a near silent murmur, "Shouldn't'a."

"They?"

"Father Maxwell. Sister Helen. Th' priest an' th' nun that ran th' shelter. They took us all in. Found 'em all homes. 'Cept me. No one wanted me. I was too bad."

That last declaration, so calm, so. forthright. It rolled off of Duo's tongue as placid and as factual as he'd recite the ingredients for a cough syrup. Before he could open his mouth to refute the claim, Duo was continuing.

"So I stayed at th' shelter. Th' others. found good homes. Father Maxwell an' Sister Helen. they took me in. 'Dopted me."

A stirring of dread crawled along Heero's soul. He could see the flames licking in Duo's eyes, he could smell the smoke flaring in Duo's nostrils, he could taste the fear in the air.

Was it Duo's? Or his own?

"You were there," he breathed, horror dawning in his gaze.

"That night." Duo's voice trailed off, losing the slur he'd been cultivating, abandoning his pretense of inebriation, "that night."

Heero watched as Duo seemed to freeze, his whole being stilling into this single moment, while his eyes grew wide, pupils contracting down into pinpoints as he concentrated on memories.

"The shelter was full that night. Father hadn't slept in days. so busy. Helen too. I'd been invited to a party. but Father forbid me to go. Told me I wasn't old enough, and that he and Helen needed help with the shelter. I was mad. So mad. We yelled. Had a fight. Helen tried to stop us. tried to make us apologize. but I ran away. Ran out. Didn't go to the party, just walked around for a while. Long while. I was so mad at him. He was always. doing that. Keeping me home. Saying no. Always said it was because he. loved me.

"I didn't see it then. god. Father. I see it now. I see. I see that night. When I close my eyes. I can still hear me yelling at him. I can hear his silence. He never yelled. I take it back. Father, I take it back. Helen was so sad when I ran out. saw it in her eyes. She was crying. Helen shouldn 't have to cry. I made her cry. My fault.

"And when I finally came back. it was all wrong. Gone. The spire was caught in a pillar of orange and black. It was all washing away to heaven in sheets of rage. mine. The fire. was like the cloak of the specter of Death. There was no escape. not for them. But I'd run away, so I was. I can still hear his silence.

"That's what I remember the most. The silence. It seemed wrong. Seemed like the Sanctuary should be screaming. tears of blood. like one of those miraculous holy images you hear about in places like Paraguay. But Mary had already been sacrificed. And there was no God.

"I ran inside to find them. It was so hot. couldn't see anything. couldn 't breathe. I thought I finally heard the Sanctuary cry, but it was just the sirens. She was there. in the shelter. That's where I found her, collapsed near the door with a pair of children in her arms. They were gone. Whisked away like the spire. taken into the black cloak. She was still there, though. Helen. Her eyes. they were still crying. but her mouth. it smiled when she saw me.

"She tried to talk, but her throat was too raw. I wouldn't have heard anyway. The silence was deafening. It was killing me. She pressed her cross into my hand and closed her eyes. I could see her faith. and it wasn't enough. I tried to pull her out. Tried to save her. but she was too heavy. Too big. I couldn't move her. Her faith. wasn't enough.

"I would have stayed with her there. but there was a hand. A black cloak to shield me from the fire. I woke up outside. I heard the paramedics talking as I woke up. I was the only one. The only survivor. So I ran. They tried to stop me, but they couldn't. Nothing can stop Death's errand boy. Nothing. Went back to the beginning. started over.

"Alpha and the Omega. And the Valley of His Shadow. where I built my home."

Heero suddenly remembered to breathe again as Duo fell silent once more. The braided man's eyes were still wide, endless pools of violet torment that drowned the casual observer in a starless night.

Heero needed the stars back to guide him.

"Dante's wrong, ya know," Duo finally said bitterly, blinking as he seemed to return to himself with the speed of a stooping falcon, "Hell isn't fire and brimstone. Not alone. It's the fear and the loneliness. And that helpless feeling knowing that that bastard Lowe will never be called to pay for what he did."

A lance of ice stabbed along Heero's spine, grabbing his brain in a vice of surprise and fear.

"He didn't set that fire," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Duo turned, paralyzing him with a look born of equal parts disbelief, hope, rage, fear, shame, and something even Heero could put no name to.

"What?"

He wanted to stay silent. The explanation burning on his tongue would only thrust the two of them down a path that Heero feared tread. Why force Duo to relive that night yet again by turning all of the braided man's perceptions upside down? Besides. Lowe had no honor, so what did one more death-toll fire on his name matter?

Duo's eyes sharpened into focus again, tipping the balance.

It wasn't Lowe's non-existent honor that urged Heero's tongue to once more run off, spilling the truth. It was Duo. Duo's right to know. To hate him with purity. To hate Heero with purity as well.

"Lowe didn't set that fire. He'd been in Queens setting up that warehouse fire that took out six blocks of slum and killed all those indigent families. It was the one they called the Machine."

"The Machine?"

"Tsuberov. Tsuberov set the St. Mary's fire."

Duo's glare narrowed, filling Heero once again with a foreboding sense of terror and dread. They weren't quite there yet. Not quite to the truth. But-

"How do you know?" Duo hissed.

Now they would be.

"There was someone who wanted the shelter shut down. I don't know who. He never told me," Heero said softly, ducking his head to stare at his hands where they desperately clutched the fragile aluminum of the beer can. He'd expected Duo to demand more answers, but the driver was curiously silent as he watched Heero struggle to find the words to say.

"I don't even know why he turned down that job. It would have paid well enough for him. Maybe even he was wary of defiling a church. So he took the job in Queens instead. Heard later that Tsuberov took it. The Machine.

"They call him that, because he likes to build. things. To make the fire. The more complicated, the better. To take Human error out of the equation. The Machine. did the church.

"Odin was mad, later, when he heard that he was being blamed for St. Mary's. The Machine was, too. Tsuberov wanted his rightful credit."

"Odin?" Duo asked, his voice low and wary, like a child reaching out to grab that poker from the fire, and suspecting, somehow, that he'd be burned.

Heero glanced back up, unable to deny Duo the right to confront his demon through the demon's own spawn.

"Odin Lowe. the only father I ever knew."


	14. Chapter 13

Computers back, and the formatting is fixed! ENJOY EVERYONE!

-Rosen

* * *

The scent of cheap beer and the sound of tortured aluminum filled the air as Duo's expression seemed to freeze.

"What?"

That single word dropped into the silence like the crash of a shattering iceberg in still seas. It burst the stillness with waves that fled outward, threatening to drown them both in a tsunami of ice.

Heero flinched, wishing he dared drop his gaze before the braided man, but knowing that the tenuous eye contact he was struggling to maintain was the only thing keeping his sanity afloat, even as it threatened to engulf him.

"Odin Lowe wasn't responsible for St. Mary's. He was too busy killing someone else that night."

The stars hadn't returned quite yet, but lightning flashed in the turbulent violet depths of Duo's gaze. Heero narrowed his focus on those flashes of suppressed rage, immersing himself in their heat, sucking up the hate. It was merely his due as the protégé of the arsonist long known to firefighters everywhere as The Demon.

"After that part. Back to the part where you explain who he was. To you."

"The man who raised me," Heero replied simply. There was no need to glaze the truth anymore. There was nothing in the world that could make that bitter pill any easier for either of them to swallow anyway.

"He was... your... father?"

"Not by blood. But, yes."

The braided man's eyes blinked rapidly as he fought to assimilate the information into his worldview. Heero almost forgot to breathe again as Duo wrestled with the concept, coming to terms with his partner's past.

Duo's whole posture, which had been tense, like a cat ready to pounce, suddenly deflated as he slumped back onto his pillows. A pair of startled tears slipped down his cheeks unheeded as that same blank, dead mask settled over his face.

"Why are you telling me this?" he whispered at length.

"You deserved to know the truth. Tsuberov is still out there somewhere. Lowe's gone. Killed in one of his own fires. But Tsuberov is still out there. I'll find him someday. I swear it," he hissed vehemently.

"Why?"

"To make him pay. For what he's done."

"No. Why you? Why do you have to be the one to find him?"

Heero glanced up and met Duo's gaze, surprised by the question. He could see no condemnation in the braided man's gaze, no anger, no judgment. All he could find was the shadow of a specter of long held fear, and a calm sort of curiosity. A forgiving sort.

Heero glanced away quickly, uncomfortable with the hint of exoneration in that amaryllis gaze. His fingers betrayed him, plucking guiltily at the blanket on his lap as he considered his reply.

"There was a time... before Lowe bought it. The Demon and the Machine used to work together. Not all the time. Occasionally. I grew up knowing...

"One of his contraptions backfired on him once. Odin was gone. There was only the fire and myself. And the Machine. I had his life in my hands. I could have prevented it all right then. All I had to do was... walk away. Just walk away. I hadn't learned about the responsibility of holding a life in my hands," he said, the unspoken "yet" hanging in the air between them.

"I thought about it. All I had to do was walk away. But I didn't. I let you down. I let them all down. I failed."

"Heero. We're the same age," Duo observed almost wryly.

"So?"

"I was nine when St. Mary's burnt."

Heero looked up, not comprehending where his partner's train of logic was headed. Duo saw the confusion and shook his head sadly as he continued.

"Twenty-one is too young to be debating the morality of ending someone's life. Let alone nine. Nine is too young to even be considering the debate. You were just a kid," Duo said gently, although, in truth, he had a hard time equating the intense Japanese man with ever having been 'just a kid'.

Heero glanced away hurriedly, refusing to meet Duo's eyes anymore.

"Heero, how could you have known-"

"Don't."

Duo stopped, stunned by the coldness of that single word. He blinked again, peering at his partner.

"Don't what?"

"Don't try that argument with me. Lowe was the only father I ever knew. Don't you get it? I was raised by an arsonist. My earliest memories were of cinders and smoke, glitter and ash. How could I have NOT known one of the two of them. They were both murderers. I knew it even before I had his life in my hands. I failed."

"I'm sorry, Heero."

"I didn't tell you to get your sympathy," Heero growled.

"Why did you tell me?" Duo snapped, growing frustrated.

"I told you that already. You deser-"

Duo waved him off sharply.

"That's not it, Heero! That may be part of the reason, but that not the whole reason... Why?" he demanded.

Heero stared down at his hands, the hands that must have been stained since his very birth. The very righteous rage that even now seemed to radiate from the braided driver, even through his silence, seemed a thousand times more pure by comparison. He considered the question, considered the source, considered even that righteous rage. And it was there that he found his answer.

"Because. Tsuberov is still out there. I will find him. It's my duty as the heir to Odin's legacy. I will not fail again. Besides," he said as he glanced quickly over to Duo's face, "Twelve years is a long time to hold onto a nightmare so tight that it chokes the breath from your sleep. You. Lowe and I. We. we don't deserve anything as pure as your hate," he murmured quietly, finally dropping his eyes back to his lap and the can he clutched there.

Duo's head jerked up, his amethyst gaze seeking Heero's face.

"'We'? What do you mean 'we', Heero? Why would I hate you?"

Heero didn't bother to look up again at the surprise in Duo's voice. He was afraid he'd see that same absolution Duo had tried to give him before. He wasn't going to answer. He wasn't even truly certain why he'd told Duo as much as he already had. He'd never been loquacious about even mundane things, and even less so about his past.

Maybe it was the alcohol, even though he'd like to think that he could handle five beers in an hour better than that. Maybe it was the pain he could still feel in Duo even as the braided man tried to offer him forgiveness for the unforgivable. Maybe it was the same weakness that had landed him in the hospital in the first place. Maybe it was, as it said in the book which he had no faith in, that for everything there was a season, and this was the time to harvest his guilt. Even as the words poured out of him once again, he couldn't finger a single reason.

"I learned everything I know about fire from him. How it burns in almost any environment, on almost any material, how to keep it burning, how to keep it from spreading. How to turn a match into a flashover, or a backdraft into a campfire. He even taught me about firefighters. How they worked, how they thought, what tools they used and when. That's why I scored so high on all of the tests to get into the Academy. I already knew everything they'd planned on teaching me. All the books they gave me in Academy. They made great paperweights.

"Odin's classes never used books."

Duo's eyes narrowed as he studied his partner for a long moment. He could taste the guilt in the air, almost as palpable as the smoke from the fire a week ago, choking and noxious.

"That's why you became a fireman, isn't it? Yer still trying to redeem yourself for stuff some whack job who raised you did twelve years ago. That' s nuts, Heero."

"As 'nuts' as becoming a firefighter to save people who've been dead for sixteen years?" the Soldier retorted mercilessly. Heero bit his lip as he listened to the words falling from his lips.

Stony silence dropped over the room. It stretched on uncomfortably, prompting Heero to dart a furtive glance over at his roommate.

Duo had drawn his knees up to his chin, with his arms wrapped around his shins and was staring forlornly towards the curtained window. His jaw trembled, as if he was fighting back words of his own, and what Heero could see of his eyes. made the Japanese man want to grab the nearest knife and cut out his own tongue. Damn the Soldier's brutal efficiency.

"Duo-sama. Gomen nasai."

"What?" the barely audible whisper quivered in the quiet.

"I said I- I'm sorry, Duo. I had no right."

"No," Duo stopped him, shaking his head with a self-depreciating snort, "Yer right. I... I need to quit kidding myself."

Heero turned, the blankets sliding over his legs as he shifted to sit on the edge of his bed, his deep blue gaze spearing the braided man in the other bed.

"I mean. nothing I do. will ever b. bring them back. Maybe this was. was my cosmic wake-up call," Duo stammered, indicating the hospital room with a wave of his hand.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying... maybe it's time for me to move on."

"Move on? You mean quit?" Heero asked incredulously.

Duo shrugged painfully, turning so that he couldn't see his partner even out of the corner of his eyes, hiding from the Japanese man's penetrating stare.

"Why not? Not doin' any good anyway."

"Bullshit!"

Heero surprised him into turning back towards him, frowning at the outburst.

"How many lives have you outright saved? Let alone had an impact on?"

"Impact he says. Yeah, I had an impact. A whole churchful of people for a start. How's that for impact?"

"You can't honestly think that that was your fault."

"If I'd been there. I never used to sleep well. I might have been up. I might have seen something-"

"And you'd be dead now, too," Heero replied bluntly, "The Machine wouldn 't have hesitated to take out any witnesses before he left."

"Maybe I should have been with them," Duo whispered.

"Then why did you bother saving my life at that warehouse? Why didn't you just sit down? Then we both could have ended up where we apparently belonged."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Duo snapped as he spun around and glared at his Japanese roommate.

"Sounds like you're bound and determined to die. To quit. If either of us really deserves it, it's me. You want to blame the church on someone? Blame me. I'm the one who failed you. Not you. You couldn't have affected that night, but I could have. And yet you saved my life. And yourself. Why bother if you're so set on giving up?"

"You couldn't have done anything, Heero. You were a kid!" Duo responded heatedly.

"So why do you get to be special? Why is it wrong for me to take blame for that, but not for you?" Heero pressed.

Duo opened his mouth to answer, but his thoughts deserted him, leaving him stranded in the face of Heero's logic.

"Because you weren't supposed to be there," Duo finally said weakly, knowing even as he spoke how flimsy his response was.

"And maybe you weren't supposed to be either."

"Fuck. I don't believe in that fate shit," Duo spat, turning away again, his back stiffening in suppressed anger, "It can't be true. Fate can't be real. It can't. What kind of fucked up universe would destine all those people to die?"

"I don't know, Duo. All I do know is that it's okay to have survived. There was nothing you could have done to prevent it, and nothing you do now will bring them back. But that's no reason to give up. It's all the more reason to keep going."

"Why?"

"Because you've come this far. You have the skills and the training to try and keep that from happening again. You had the will to walk into hell with nothing more than a few hundred gallons of water and a rookie on the end of the line. A rookie whom you ended up saving."

"You saved me first. You pushed me out of the way."

"That's what firemen do, Duo. At least until they give up."

Duo sat silent for several very long minutes, digesting Heero's words and trying to order his thoughts. He finally half turned back towards the other bed, glancing from Heero's face to the floor nervously.

"I. I can't bring 'em back. but maybe. maybe I can still make 'em proud."

Heero's expression softened minutely as he nodded.

"Hn."

Duo was silent again for a few minutes, his amaryllis gaze still slightly pensive until he turned and tossed Heero a perplexed glance.

"What's with you all'a the sudden? Since when did you become so sensitive?"

The question struck Heero like a physical blow. Had he become such a monster that a little simple concern was so strange coming from him? Then again, Duo had a point. Since when had he been so concerned with anything more than his own efficiency? Duo's performance hadn't been impaired before by his past, other than his propensity for night terrors. In fact, by giving into his impulse to comfort the braided driver, Heero had let far more about his own past slip than he ever had before. Duo effectively held Heero's life in his hands now.

What had he hoped to accomplish by doing what he did? What was there to have possibly accomplished?

Other than to comfort his partner.

He felt his mouth go dry and his breath hesitate in his throat. He'd comforted Duo. He'd wanted to comfort Duo. He. cared?

What the hell was happening to his neat and ordered life? What the hell was Duo doing to him?

Duo seemed to read his sudden confusion in his silence.

"Hey... Sorry, man. I... I'm just not used to hearing so much from you at a single sitting. Yer usually so quiet."

And now he'd broken that personae for some unfathomable reason. What exactly was it about the braided driver that seemed to be able to turn his ordered existence upside down and dig past his carefully crafted defenses? Defenses that he'd erected as much for everyone else's safety as for his own. Did Duo realize what kind of fire he was playing with?

"Yo. You listening to me?"

He was the son of Odin Lowe, one of the most notorious serial arsonists in the history if fire prevention. That kind of darkness alone should be enough to ward off even the most persistent distractions.

Yet... it hadn't. Duo had still managed to get past it all, dig past the shell.

"Heero!"

He shook himself back to the here and now, turning his wide-eyed stare on his partner.

"Yo. You okay there? You looked lost in thought there."

Unbidden, the memory stabbed at him, assailing him from the darkness.

_/"Are you lost?"  
"I've been lost all my life."/_

He turned away, deigning not to answer.

Duo snorted and leaned back into his pillows, settling himself once again.

"Guess so. Back to the ol' silent thing again."

"Hn."

"Guess we should at least try and get some sleep tonight, eh? Get out of this place tomorrow. It'll be nice to sleep in my own bed for once."

Heero could see Duo watching him closely, the question sitting almost visibly on the braided man's tongue. The Soldier sprang to his rescue.

"Away from your snoring. You're right. Sounds great."

"Yeah. Right. I'll remember that when we're back at the firehouse in three days and you're the one keeping everyone up, sawing logs," Duo snorted, relaxing back into his bed and snuggling down into his blankets again.

"Hn."

"Night sweetheart," Duo cooed, falling back on comfortable teasing habits.

Heero snorted derisively as he, too, settled back into his bedding, content to let the matter drop.

Duo, however, had to get the last word in.

"Thanks Heero. You. Yer not half bad when you wanna be."

Heero frowned, shifting to glance over at the other bed's inhabitant. Duo had already closed his eyes and seemed to be concentrating on falling asleep.

When he wanted to be. Did he really want to be? Like a small rodent trapped on a wheel, the thoughts kept turning over in his head. Like his life that seemed to be spinning out of his control, they revolved, rattling around in his head over and over. And at every turn, the linchpin remained the same. The center point around which the whole mess orbited reduced itself to a single word. A name.

Duo.

Everything came back to Duo time and again. Never had a single entity consumed this much of his life before. Except for the Machine. Tsuberov. His mission.

Heero frowned suddenly as he realized that Duo had come to take up the same amount of his time and attention as he used to expend on nothing other than a mission. Did that make Duo a mission too? What kind of mission could the braided man possibly represent? Perhaps a focus, an external symbol of Heero's obsession with bringing justice to the Machine. Yes. That made perfect sense. Justice to the one person whom it would matter the most to.

Except that it hadn't been until a scant hour before that Heero had even found out about the braided driver's connection with his old nemesis. So how could Duo have possible figured into his mission before that?

Scratch that theory.

Perhaps as a less literal symbol. But again, that would still come back to Duo's painful past, which Heero hadn't been privy to until too recently to use it as an excuse.

Maybe he had it backwards. Maybe, rather than Duo being Heero's mission, the Japanese man was the braided driver's mission. Duo seemed bound and determined to humanize Heero at any cost. And he was damned persistent, too.

A frustrated growl burbled up from his throat as he flipped over on his side to stare at his roommate contemplatively.

Duo lay curled on his own side, facing Heero, with a slight half-smile gracing his slack features. The tip of his braid lay cradled in one hand, which was drawn up to his cheek. Heero could see his chest rise and fall regularly as Duo had apparently surrendered his consciousness up.

Heero felt the impulse rising within him to slip from his bed and tiptoe over to touch that woven rope of chestnut. He frowned as he analyzed the sensation of. want. There was no logical reason for this sudden desire.

Desire?

He blinked in sudden confusion. Perhaps that was the reason for the pure strength of the distraction that Duo represented. A physical attraction combined with the amount of time the two had been forced to spend together, even before their injuries, would explain a large part of the intensity of Heero's focus.

Of course, that would mean admitting to a physical attraction.

As he shifted his attention back to Duo, he had to grudgingly admit that Duo did look rather. quaint, curled up like a housecat within his cocoon of blankets. Especially when his face, rather than being pinched with anxiety as he fought off another nightmare, was quiet, with that curious little smile teasing at his lips.

Heero heaved a sigh and flipped over onto his other side, resolutely turning his back on yet another distracting sight, courtesy of Duo Maxwell.

Although, Heero mused as he felt himself dropping off to sleep, this was the most serene he'd ever seen Duo sleep.

Ninmu ryoukai.

_Click, click, tap._

Heero's eyes snapped open as the faint sound intruded upon his consciousness, halting his attempts at sleep.

_Click, click, tap._

The Soldier's memory instantly supplied an image to accompany that sound, dredging up a recollection that was far too recent for Heero's comfort.

_Click, click, tap._

The sound grew louder as its source drew closer.

_Click, click, tap._

As it drew even with their room, the sound paused. Heero snapped his eyes shut and feigned sleep.

_Click, click, tap._

"You may as well open your eyes, boy. I know you're awake."

"What do you want, old man?" Heero growled as he complied, lifting himself to lean back against his pillow.

"Now, now, now. Is that any way to greet and old teacher who's come to visit his favorite young student? I'm really disappointed in you, my boy. You never called to let me know you were hurt. I had to find out by reading it in the newspaper."

Heero glared darkly at the aging man standing at the foot of his bed, leaning upon a cane. His eyes traveled briefly over the prosthetic arm, and the braces on both legs, visions of where Heero would like to forcibly shove said appliances dancing in his head before he snarled a reply.

"I'm not 'your boy'."

Behind his special goggles, the man's brows shot up in surprise and amusement.

"Such hostility." he admonished, "And here I'd come to check and see if you were doing all right. I can see that I'm no longer loved."

"I'm fine. You've seen. There's the door," Heero growled, pausing to spare a glance at his still sleeping roommate.

"Tut tut. Such a hurry to usher an old man on his way. I thought you'd be more pleased to see the man who's come to offer you your old job back."

"I already have a job."

"Yes, yes, yes. Your little. 'firefighting' fantasy. Well, my boy, don't you think it's time you woke up and returned to reality? This isn't where you belong. You're letting your real talents fester."

"How about I practice my 'real talents' on you?"

Heero's visitor shook his head, sighing with vexation at the Japanese man glaring at him from the hospital bed.

"The old guys at the Foundation really miss you, my boy," he continued on blithely, ignoring Heero's growing ire.

"Too bad. They can keep right on missing me."

"Your position is still empty. Finding anyone with your particular skills has been quite difficult. You are quite the commodity, my boy."

"I told you, I'm not 'your boy'," he snarled again, pitching his voice to not disturb Duo across the small room.

"Heero," the old man sighed, "I don't understand why you're passing on such a golden opportunity. You have them all by the proverbial 'short hairs' here. You could name your own price! Don't you see?"

"There is nothing," Heero growled, "that any of you could ever offer me, to make that worth it again. I'm not going back there."

Heero watched as the old man's attention slowly shifted to the braided driver sprawled and softly snoring in the other bed.

"Everyone has a price, my boy."

Heero reigned in the sudden flash of insane rage that threatened to swamp his cognitive ability. He clamped his mouth down on the rabid hiss sitting so hotly in his lungs, calling on his iron-willed control. He wouldn 't give the bastard the satisfaction of rattling him that much.

"Mine's too high for you," he finally replied, voice a deadly whisper.

"You underestimate their resources, my boy. No price is too high for them. One of these days, they'll manage to make you an offer even you just won't be able to turn down."

"You'll forgive me if I scoff."

"Heero."

"Get out. Leave. Our conversation is done."

"They won't take no for an answer."

"Well then, you can tell them I said no. And then you can tell them that I said they can all go to hell. I'm not going back," he replied, his icy tone making it quite clear that a wise man would steer clear of the Japanese firefighter.

The old man shook his head, turning to leave as he muttered darkly under his breath. At the door, he paused, turning back to stare at Heero, before tossing a rather significant glance at the room's other occupant.

"He is rather beautiful, isn't he?" he asked, his grating voice now smooth with velvet menace and veiled desire.

Heero wasn't even aware of his own movement. He didn't even feel the cool wash of air strike him as he leapt from his mound of blankets to cross the distance between the two of them in a single bound. He wasn't even aware of the solid smack of flesh as his fist impacted the old man's shoulder and reached up to seize him in a crushing grip at the waddled throat. All he knew was the blazing flash of red that erupted over his vision, and the maelstrom of rage that flung his reason into a primitive well of animalistic action/reaction.

As the old man's body slammed up against the wall, Heero shifted his grip, lifting the withered body off the floor and pressing a bony forearm against a trembling throat. The cane clattered, forgotten, to the floor.

"If you," he snarled, his voice so deep with the struggle to suppress his sudden need for blood that he barely recognized it, "If any of you touch him. If any of you touch any of them," he continued, giving the old man a savage shake for emphasis, "I will hunt you down myself. There will be no Foundation. I will raze it to the ground and piss on the ashes. I will bathe in your blood and leave your broken, bleeding corpses to feed the ghouls in the night. Every plan, every plot, every grand scheme you and your ilk have spent your lives arranging and building, will come crashing down, and I will be the first in line to squeeze the trigger on their twitching. writhing. broken. useless. skeletons."

With an almost negligent flick of his wrist, he threw the cyanotic body forcefully from the room, watching as the old man landed in a tangle of braces and limbs in the abandoned hallway. As an afterthought, he kicked the cane out the door, a small corner of his mind smiling in glee as it slammed painfully into the old man's side.

"Tell them. There will be no more warnings."

Without even waiting for the man's reaction to his incredibly uncharacteristic, and highly descriptive, outburst, Heero turned on his heel and strode back to his bed. Settling himself in the embrace of the blankets once again, he spared a moment to will his body to quit pumping him with adrenaline, and slow his breathing and heart, assuming a familiar mantle of calm and stoic determination.

That had been a mistake. He shouldn't have allowed himself to lose control like that. A faint tremble along his psyche confused him for a moment.

Fear. The tremble was a whisper of half-formed fear.

When was the last time he had truly felt that strange quiver within him? Years. It seemed like ages.

No. That was wrong. His gaze swung sharply over to his partner's slumbering body, surprise widening his eyes as the realization struck him.

He'd felt that same tight wire shiver of fear a week ago. Right after the world lit up in a ball of fire and a demon's scream. When he thought that Duo might be killed.

Back to Duo.

Why did it seem that every complication arising in his formerly simple life lately stemmed somehow from that braided baka?

Even now, while he was blissfully sleeping away, he was still doing it. Without uttering a single word, Duo was derailing his train of thought, distracting him from the more immediate concern: the Foundation's renewed interest in Heero's whereabouts.

Why did it seem like the foundation of his whole world had started smoldering into ash ever since Duo had appeared in it? As he shook his head and relaxed back into his pillow, Heero privately wondered what other complications Duo would toss his way. With a snort, Heero figured it would only be a few more hours before he found out. Dawn wasn't far away.

Dawn, and freedom. And one hyperactive driver.

As he willed himself to sleep, Heero spared a brief moment to treasure the calm before the storm.


	15. Chapter 14

"That's the last form, Mr. Maxwell. After you sign that, you'll be free as a bird," Dr. Sorenson said pleasantly as he handed Duo the last piece of paperwork.

The braided driver crowed excitedly as he completed his signature with a flourish. Heero shook his head and sighed as he watched his partner's antics.

"As if they need another excuse to refuse us treatment next time you try and get us killed," he muttered.

"You're just still pissed off about that short-sheeting thing," Duo retorted, sticking his tongue out childishly as he handed the form back to the doctor.

"I'm not even going to ask," the doctor said, eyeing them both with a mixture of relief and amusement, "Now remember what I said about getting hurt again. I hear Mercy got their petition signed and passed by the board of directors, so you may want to send them something nice for Christmas to get back into their good graces."

"Is there a gift in the world expensive enough and tasteful enough for these two to bribe their way into a hospital again?" Zechs' voice piped up from behind the doctor.

Heero glanced up and met his Captain's amused gaze for a moment before pointing an offending finger at Duo.

"To take him? Doubt it."

"Speak for yourself Yuy. I wasn't the one with the head injury, so I'm pretty sure I'm correct in remembering that you were right there beside me for a week, hanging out on a glorified table in a dress with no ass. And that was a petition against the BOTH of us. I saw it."

"How did I miss seeing Maxwell in drag?" Wufei asked, popping up beside Zechs with a curious smirk.

"It could probably be arranged again," Zechs replied, "Oh wait. I forget. Jakes has buckets. Not dresses. Even the assless variety."

"Yeah. Laugh it up, everyone. Just you wait. Next chili day, you'd better bring your Tums and your Preparation H. I'm gonna make that batch so hot that none of ya will be able to sit for a week. Then you'll all be wishing for a dress with no ass," Duo retorted, crossing his arms over his chest with a mock-scowl.

"You couldn't make it that hot," Heero replied evenly.

Everyone turned to face the Japanese man with faint looks of surprise.

"That almost sounded like a challenge, Yuy," Duo said, his nostrils flaring like a hound scenting the coon gone to tree in the woods.

"Make of it what you will."

An evil smile lit upon the braided man's features, transforming his normally slightly demented cherubic expression to one of demonic glee. Zechs could smell the doom in the air.

"You know, 24 hours is an awful long time to spend with a pissed off Captain," Wufei advised them both dryly.

Duo threw up his hands in appeal.

"I'll make it a sidecar.[1] I won't ruin the whole batch for you. That way I can just torture Heero."

"You don't even know the meaning of the word," Heero replied, his voice hovering between a laugh and a snarl, "We're free to go?" he queried the doctor. At Dr. Sorenson's nod, Heero pushed past the group and stalked off.

"PMS much, Yuy?" Duo muttered, trailing in his partner's wake.

"Thank you, Doctor," Zechs said, accepting the paperwork for the department before he and Wufei strolled off after the other two Engine 8 fire fighters.

"Yo, Heero. Need a ride home?" Duo called, catching up with his partner and falling into step beside him.

"I was going to walk," Heero answered with a shrug.

"Man, that's like all the way across town! Quatre brought my car out yesterday. Why doncha let me give you a lift?"

Heero's stride hesitated for a moment as he glanced at Duo from the corner of his eyes.

"What? You trust me in a firetruck, otherwise known as a 20 ton tool box with questionable road response and enough inertia to trample an elephant, who's only redeeming feature is a set of lights and sirens to warn the world to get out of our way because we can't get out of theirs. yet you won't trust me in the finest engineered piece of high-performance American steel, with better handling than a senior on a prom date and more horsepower than the whole state of Kentucky?" Duo asked incredulously, his wide-eyed expression all wounded innocence.

"What the hell. I can only die once."

"That's the spirit!" Duo crowed, clapping Heero on the back before skipping ahead of him to literally dance out the door to the parking lot.

Out of reflex, Heero reached behind him to check his back, and was unsurprised when his groping fingers encountered a piece of paper taped between his shoulderblades. Although, he did find himself wondering when Duo had managed to draw up this "Why are all the sheep afraid of me?" sign.

"What the hell did I just agree to?" he muttered, following much more sedately behind the cavorting driver to the parking lot.

"I believe the term is commonly called 'suicide'," Wufei said from a few feet away as he and Zechs slipped out the doors towards their own vehicle.

"Good luck," Zechs agreed fatalistically.

"Is his pension vested?[2]" Heero asked before the pair could get out of earshot.

"No. Next year," Zechs replied.

Before Heero could nod in relief, Wufei tossed him a quick rejoinder.

"But remember, he also doesn't have any family, so there'd be no one for him to leave it to, even if he was vested."

"K'so."

"Come on, Yuy! Live fast, die young, leave a cute corpse!" Duo called from beside his Camaro.

"See you in a couple of days, if you survive this," Zechs said, smirking.

Heero deigned not to answer as he strolled over to where Duo danced impatiently beside his cherished muscle car. Satisfied that Heero was finally on his way over, Duo turned his attention to inspecting every inch of his beloved racy black car. Heero watched, almost amused, as the braided man meticulously checked every inch of the glossy black machine, from bumper to bumper, before dropping a loving kiss atop the roof. Then he buffed the lip marks off the wax job with the cuff of his shirt.

"And how do you spell 'obsessed'? Oh yes, 'C-A-M-A-R-O'," Heero remarked as he approached.

Duo glanced at him sharply, his eyebrows vanishing into his bangs as he peered at Heero sardonically.

"Pot? Kettle? Black?"

Heero's eyes narrowed dangerously as he leaned up against the Camaro.

"I could get myself a bucket of pink paint too," he warned darkly.

"Don't even think about it, Yuy. Deathscythe gets painted, and I'll blow that crappy ass bike of your up. Besides, Wufei already told me he spoiled the joke."

"Why doesn't the thought of you with explosives frighten me? Oh yes, probably because you'd blow your head off trying," Heero scoffed.

Duo grinned evilly from across the roof of the car as he unlocked his door.

"Don't be too sure about that, man. I have talents I haven't even hinted at yet," the braided driver said with a wink as he dropped into the seat and leaned over to unlock the other door.

"If you even knew the difference between Amfo and C-4, I'd let you drag me out drinking every night off for a month," Heero muttered as he popped open the door and slipped into the car.

"I'll remember you said that," Duo answered wickedly.

Something about the look in his partner's eyes sent a chill up Heero's spine. Maybe that hadn't been such a smart thing to say.

His thoughts trailed off as the car roared to life with a well-tuned rumble. Duo grinned again, a cackle somewhere between true laughter, and maniacal glee sang a counterpoint to the deep purr of the engine, and Duo's eyes sparkled in a fascinating way that Heero hadn't seen for the last week. He frowned as he caught himself staring at the braided man as Duo fiddled with the buttons and knobs of his stereo. Why did seeing Duo honestly happy have to be so distracting?

Duo finished fiddling with the various knobs and buttons of his stereo, cueing up a CD from the changer that was mounted in the trunk. With another sinister chuckle, he slipped the car into gear and backed out of the space as the opening strains of Metallica's "I Disappear" blared from the array of speakers. Heero clicked his seatbelt on as Duo laid down a strip of rubber peeling out of the lot on his way to the interstate to cross town.

* * *

Heero flipped over, tossing a morose glare at the clock across the room. The crimson numbers stared unflinchingly back at him, daring him to dispute them. Only five minutes had passed since the last time he glanced over, but that had been half an hour ago, right? He flipped back over and grabbed the phone, dialing up Time and Temperature to check how far off his own clock was.

As the too-moderate electronic female voice drifted over the connection to him, a scowl etched itself onto his face. For the sixth time in half an hour, Time and Temperature had corroborated the infernal timepiece. The phone dropped dully back into its cradle, the clatter of plastic on plastic loud in the abnormally quiet apartment.

Ten thirty P.M. How could it be only ten-thirty? He'd been trying to sleep now for half an hour and was no closer to unconsciousness now than when he'd started at ten. Further from it, in fact. The silence of the apartment was crashing in his ears, driving him to madness and distraction. He'd never had this kind of trouble falling asleep before, except when Duo had attempted to keep him up with his idle chatter in the hospital. Even then, however, Heero had managed to tune out the lively drone of the braided man's voice.

He didn't understand it. After Duo had dropped him off at home that afternoon, Heero had gone straight to the gym. He'd spent all afternoon, and most of early evening, undoing the damages of a week of enforced idleness. He'd gone to all the trouble to wear himself out more than usual, only to be rewarded with insomnia.

For what seemed like the hundredth time since he'd tumbled into bed, his gaze drifted towards his bedroom door, his senses extended to catch even the faintest disturbance at his front door. Any moment now, Duo would arrive, his knuckles sounding against the hollow core fiberglass with a sharp staccato rap. His annoyingly cheerful voice would demand Heero's attendance to yet another soon-to-be-disastrous bar fiasco. With a bounce in his step and a grin on his face, he would drag Heero unwillingly off for a night of inebriation and celebration, happy simply to be out of the hospital.

The silence roared in his ears. The hallway outside Heero's apartment remained still and vacant.

Ten thirty-one.

Heero growled and threw off the thin blanket covering him as he flung himself from bed. Running one tense hand through his bedraggled bangs, he stalked into his living room, glancing around him for some sort of center, a sense of balance. Something to throw off the rising sense of wrongness in his life. When had the world become so quiet? Even the building's air handling system seemed to be muffled and muted. When had his comfortable little bolthole of an apartment become a cage to entrap him? Why did the walls seem so close and tight, yet so open and empty? It was like standing in the center of an abandoned plane hanger, and being wrapped tight as a mummy, all at once.

At ten thirty-three, he realized he was pacing. Living room, kitchen, hall, bedroom, turn. Hall, kitchen, living room, turn. Repeat. Even as he became aware of it, he couldn't seem to stop himself from continuing on his tiny little migration. For a change, he detoured into the bathroom to glance at himself in the medicine cabinet mirror. As the light flipped on, a startled Japanese man confronted him. It took his racing mind a moment to realize that the Asian interloper with the deer-like gaze was himself. His tongue darted out, moistening his upper lip as he blinked hazily at his reflection. With a shake of his head, he retreated back to his bedroom.

Ten thirty-four.

Swift footsteps brought him to his refrigerator, which he yanked open in search of a beer to calm his nerves. Four slices of individually wrapped processed cheese food, a tube of wasabi, and a half-gallon of spoiled milk stared back at him mockingly. One hand once again flipped unconsciously through his mussed bangs as he blinked at the near empty fridge. Now what?

The door swung shut with a muffled slap, the kitchen once again plunging into darkness. Heero slipped back into his bedroom and dropped onto the bed, his arms dangling between his knees as he tried to ignore his raging unease.

Still ten thirty-four.

Heero surged to his feet once more and stomped to his closet to dig out a fresh T-shirt and jeans. Once again fully clothed, he snagged his leather jacket and the keys to Wing on his way out the door.

By ten thirty-six, man and machine zipped out of the mouth of the apartment building's parking garage with a squeal of tortured rubber and the keening whine of a high performance engine pushed to its max. Heero threw himself into the night, willing the restlessness away as he bent low over the motorcycle. The darkness flowed around him like a silken river, parting before him and closing after him in a slipstream of shadows. He spared half his concentration to wonder at the tangibility of the evening, its near physical presence as he flew down the paved streets randomly.

The night had given birth to a phantasmal child, and its name was. what was its name? What label could he give to this sudden discontent? What label could he bestow upon his dissatisfaction?

He felt the motorcycle respond to his sudden stiffening as a word floated into his slightly preoccupied brain. With a growl, he focused his attention wholly on the road once more, shoving his thoughts away as he violently gunned the accelerator. The engine screamed and the back tire kicked slightly sideways as the throttle obligingly opened up. Instinctively shifting his weight to keep the machine fully balanced below him, Heero flattened himself against the gas tank and fled his thoughts. The pre-midnight gloom ripped the unwilling word from his lips, shredding it upon the wind of his own passage. The faintest whisper of sound, the barest wisp of breath from his throat, vanished into the roar of his flight, but the echoes clattered in his brain, crashing through the hollows of his thoughts.

Emptiness.

And for the first time in his life, even the latest in a long string of self-appointed missions couldn't offer him cold comfort against the void.

* * *

It was the stars that finally called him back. Their soft twinkling illuminated a path back to his own awareness as he sat astride Wing and peered out over the city. Actually, he mused to himself, it was more likely their tenacity that reawoke him. That such tiny pinpricks, like a scattering of embers, could find the strength to punch through the artificial glare of the deep city and gently shimmer against the curtained backdrop of the night sky, shamed him. Their light both warmed and chilled him at the same time. Something about the intangible proof of their existence comforted him. Even when a blanket of clouds hid them from him, he could count on their presence within the vacuum of space, demanding nothing, expecting nothing, asking nothing. They existed purely to exist.

If something so powerful as a star could find meaning in existing for no other reason than to exist, how could he not? Especially when he had a purpose. He had a mission. Such tiny sparks against the curtain of night had the power to make him feel so tiny and insignificant.

Strangely, that comforted him, as well. Just another mote in a sea of embers. He felt the pressure of needing purpose lifted from him as he peered up into the shimmering night.

Turning Wing away from the edge of the building, he started the big bike up once again, and started navigating his way back down the parking ramp to the street. He was three blocks away from that parking ramp, stopped at a red light, when the calm focus he'd found in the stars came crashing down as he glanced absently through a window and met a pair of beckoning amethyst eyes.

Duo blinked in surprise before an amazingly sunny grin broke over his face and he waved excitedly at Heero. The Japanese man spared a glance up at the sign above the door to the bar he was stopped in front of.

Jakes. Of course.

"Hey Heero!" Duo called, leaning out the door with a set of darts in one hand, and a beer in the other, "Whatcha doin' out there? Come on! We're starting a new game!"

He waggled the darts challengingly in Heero's direction before tossing him a saucy grin and ducking back into the bar.

The light changed to green.

Heero glanced at the empty street ahead of him, and then the crowded gathering beyond the heavy wooden doors to the bar. Wing's engine purred enticingly below him, almost leaning into the empty road. A tap on the big window along the front wall of Jakes reminded Heero of the braided maniac within.

"'And I chose the road less traveled'," he sighed softly to himself as he gunned Wing's engine.

Heero rounded the corner and pulled his bike up alongside a familiar looking black Harley. With another resigned sigh, he climbed off of the white machine, rocked it back onto its kickstand, and then trudged off to his fate.

* * *

For several long minutes, Heero lay quietly, listening to the strange rumble of a central air unit humming through unfamiliar walls. The blanket tucked up under his chin was too soft, and the surface he was sprawled across was too yielding. The faintest scent of hazelnut and vanilla, overlaid with the stronger scent of coffee ghosted silently past his hyperactive olfactory system.

"Coffee?" Duo's uncharacteristically soft voice queried from nearby.

Heero's eyes popped open and he stared up at the braided man standing in what appeared to be a living room doorway. He was clad in nothing more than a baggy pair of sweatpants, with a damp towel draped over his shoulders collecting the water from his equally wet unbound hair. He held a dark colored mug out in Heero's direction as he leaned against the doorframe and sipped at another mug.

"How did you know I was awake?" Heero asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Because I was. Call me crazy, but somehow I just can't picture you sleeping through someone walkin' into the same room yer in, 'specially if it 's unfamiliar territory," Duo replied with a slight shrug.

Heero pulled himself into a sitting position as Duo crossed the room and set the extra mug on the table beside the couch Heero had apparently spent the night on.

"Sorry you had to cart me home again last night," Duo said sheepishly, "Guess I got kinda carried away again."

"Maxwell, why is it that every time I end up in a bar with you that you end up shit-faced drunk?" Heero asked, swinging his legs down to the floor before snagging the steaming cup off the coffee table.

"Um. Just lucky?" Duo replied, dropping into the recliner beside the couch with a solid thump.

"Hn."

"What the hell did you do to yourself yesterday, anyway? Man, I thought you were gonna pass out asleep on my front doorstep when you dropped me off."

Heero shrugged as he knocked back half the cup in a single gulp.

Duo kicked back into the recliner, sprawling across it sideways with his legs dangling over one arm. The towel slipped off his shoulders as he reached down blindly and set his own mug on the floor beside his chair. A cacophony of snaps, pops, and cracks sounded from Duo's spine as he arched himself bonelessly over the opposite arm of the recliner.

Heero found his gaze raking over the lithe lines of Duo's exposed chest and abdomen.

"Man, it sure feels nice to be home again," Duo groaned, breaking into Heero's thoughts as he kicked his legs out and finished stretching. He glanced up at Heero and the careful swath of blankets neatly stretched along the length of the couch. Another sheepish grin broke over his features.

"Sorry you ended up having to baby-sit me again last night. Otherwise, you pro'lly would have been able to sleep in your own bed."

Heero shrugged, sipping at the contents of his mug, suddenly loathe to finish it off.

"Speaking of which, you play a pretty wicked game of darts. Those guys from Engine 6 never knew what hit 'em," Duo said with a chuckle as he pulled himself into a half-upright slouch in the recliner, one leg absently kicking out against the floor until the chair started rocking gently.

"Hand eye coordination," Heero replied with another shrug.

"Figures," Duo snorted.

Heero tore his gaze away from the sprawling driver and stared down into the dark liquid pooled in the bottom of the mug clutched in his hands. The silence stretched on for a long moment, prompting Heero to glance back up and meet Duo's speculative glance.

"Is there anything yer not good at, Heero?" Duo asked almost wistfully.

Heero blinked and glanced away.

"Are you always this contemplative when you're hung over?" Heero asked quietly.

"Touché."

Heero returned his pensive gaze to the dregs of his cooling coffee.

"Relating to people, I guess," Heero finally admitted as he took a sip from his mug.

Surprisingly, there was no retort from the longhaired man a few feet away. He finally glanced up and met Duo's softly amused stare. Heero's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What? You expected me to mock you or something?" Duo snorted, "I'm not always a mercurial ass, ya know."

"I didn't. say that you were."

"No. But you were thinking it. It's okay," Duo replied with a shrug, "I prefer it that way."

"Why?" Heero asked quietly, cocking his head as he peered at the oddly subdued driver.

Duo's glance grew distant for a moment as he contemplated his answer, an air of quiet companionship settling over the warm room. As he focused on his guest once again, the comfortable manic grin settled over his face once more, his eyes twinkling mirthfully.

There were Heero's stars to guide him again.

"It keeps people on their toes," Duo said with a wicked chuckle as he bounced himself back to his feet.

He stooped and snatched up his empty coffee cup, glancing over at Heero as he headed back towards the doorway.

"Want a top off?" he asked, nodding to Heero's own mostly empty cup, "Bet yours is cold too."

For some unfathomable reason, Heero felt disappointment well up within him as he met Duo's cheerfully grinning façade. He felt his own well-worn personae slip into place as he stood and offered his cup to Duo.

"Hn. It's late. I had plans," he lied.

"Oh. Well. One of the guys brought my bike home for me last night since you were to tired to make it out of here. Yours is in my garage. I guess I' ll... uh... see you at work tomorrow then, huh?"

"Hn. Try to be sober."

"You oughtta know me better than that by now, Yuy," Duo sighed with exasperation as he took Heero's proffered cup.

The Japanese man deigned not to reply as he followed Duo out of the living room to a small foyer. Heero saw his boots waiting patiently by the door beside Duo's. He cocked his head and contemplated the scene for a brief moment, surprised at the surreal air of rightness about it. Shaking his head to banish the odd feeling, Heero knelt down to slip into the comfortable leather boots, lacing them up tight. Once finished, he followed Duo through the small house to the kitchen and the door leading to the garage.

Duo paused long enough to deposit the empty mugs in the sink before he padded barefoot out into the garage and palmed the opener. Heero followed as the large door ratcheted open with a rumbling clack. Duo's cherished Camaro sat proudly closest to the door into the house, gleaming even in the dull shadows of the garage. Beyond the black muscle car, Wing awaited, sitting dormant beside the familiar Harley. Heero had to squelch another surge of that odd perfect déjà vu as he saw the bikes sitting side by side.

Duo paused beside the Camaro, watching as Heero inspected Wing carefully before backing it out onto the short driveway.

"See ya tomorrow, Heero," Duo called, tossing off a wave and a grin.

Heero turned back, his expression unreadable as he met Duo's laughing violet eyes.

"Thank you for letting me crash on your couch, Duo."

"What are friends for?" Duo replied with an impudent shrug.

"Hn."

"Whatever, Heero. Hope I didn't muck up your plans for today too much."

Heero occupied himself with swinging onto the pristine white bike.

"Don't worry about it," he murmured as he fired up Wing with a mechanical cough and a roar. Without waiting to see if Duo chose to respond, Heero goosed the throttle, turned the bike, and escaped down the drive and onto the street.

It was only by the sheerest exertion of will that he managed to not glance at his mirrors to see if Duo watched him vanish from sight.

* * *

~TBC~

Notes:  
[1] sidecar - a pot of what I usually call "hell fire" off to the side which usually consists of heavy doses of various kinds of peppers and hot sauces. Only the brave or foolish would add too much of this to their chili to spice it up. Guess which one Duo is.  
[2] vested - for those youngsters out there who haven't started thinking about retirement programs and such. if you get a pension, or a retirement program, from your job, typically, you have to work for a particular company, firm, or organization for a period of time before you are actually guaranteed any benefits. Up until that time, if you get hurt, quit, or killed, the company doesn't owe you anything other than maybe some workman's comp and perhaps a death benefit. (And trust me, workman's comp ain't all it 's cracked up to be) The process of getting in the amount of time you need is called "vesting". Once you have your time in, you become "vested', and thereby can actually look forward to getting some sort of pension someday. Pensions, for those of you who are t young to know this yes, are very very very good things. Start planning for retirement now when you're young and you still know everything. *hopping down off soapbox*


	16. Chapter 15

"Well, there goes the neighborhood," a dry Chinese voice commented as Duo bounced through the large main bay doors into Engine House No. 8 the following morning.

Duo turned, dropping the duffel he was carrying as he peered into the shadows beside Medic 6 for the owner of the voice. A wide, sunny grin broke over his face as Wufei stepped out from around the corner of the ambulance, clipboard in hand. The Chinese investigator thanked the paramedic from the previous shift that he'd just been speaking to, before striding towards Duo with an indulgent half-smirk playing across his lips.

"Wu! Whatcha doin here?" Duo crowed, nodding to the paramedic as he walked past, heading for the kitchen.

"Unlike some people, Maxwell, I work for a living. And it's Wufei. Not Wu. Not Wu-chan. Not Wu-meister, Wu-marino, Wu-honey, Wuffles, Wuffie, Wu-baby, Wu-bamalingding, Wu-ing, or Schnookums. Got it?" Wufei replied with a quirk of a single elegant eyebrow.

"You are no fun at all, man," Duo pouted.

"And you would have to take that matter up with someone who may actually have a clue about it, Maxwell."

"Where is Zechs, anyway?" the braided driver replied, swooping down to snatch up his duffel once more before turning to wander off towards the kitchen.

"Probably on his way here. I'm not his keeper Maxwell."

"Oh really?" Duo replied saucily, spinning around to spear Wufei with a speculative glance as he struck a dramatic pose, "So does that mean you're willing to share?"

Wufei shook his head and sighed mightily.

"Maxwell, is there anything you won't consider sleeping with?"

Duo affected a contemplative expression, tapping his chin with one long finger and biting his lower lip as he feigned deep thought.

"Umm. Sauerkraut," he finally replied, tossing a wink at his compatriot.

"Great. You won't sleep with it, but you'll eat it on almost anything. There's something Freudian in that, I'm sure."

Duo smirked wickedly as he spun back around and continued his progress into the kitchen. He shoved open the swinging door with a flourish and pranced in, calling an overly cheerful morning greeting to the bleary eyed members of the previous shift who were discussing the morning news around the breakfast table.

"You're late, Maxwell."

Duo turned, surprised by the emotionless voice from the office.

Heero's prussian gaze met his own as the Japanese firefighter hung the training schedule back on the wall beside the door.

"Geeze Heero! It's barely 6:30! I got a half an hour before I hafta be here! I'm EARLY!"

"I've already checked over the whole rig, all the medical equipment, and all the tools," Heero continued, "What happened? Couldn't get that hunk of junk car of yours started?"

Duo's eyes flashed dangerously as Heero nodded cordially at Wufei before crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe with a bored expression.

"Ancestors save me," Wufei muttered, shaking his head as he slipped past the affronted driver and made a beeline for the coffeepot.

"My what?"

Heero's eyebrow arched delicately into his hairline at the icy calm tone of voice those two little words were spoken in.

"What did you call Deathscythe?"

In the kitchen, the guys from the previous shift were rapidly vacating their seats, edging towards the back door slowly, as not to attract attention. Wufei held his ground, coffee cup in hand, and took one of the now empty chairs with an unreadable smirk.

"I believe I called it a car," Heero replied evenly.

"A car."

"Sounded like 'hunk of junk' car to me," Wufei supplied helpfully from the table as he reached for the front-page section of that morning's newspaper.

"Aa," Heero agreed.

"Ya know, Heero. I could use real oil based paint next time," Duo replied dangerously.

"So could I."

"You have to have a first time, for there to be a next time, Heero," Duo said with honeyed sincerity.

"That I do, Maxwell," Heero replied, the tiny smirk teasing the corners of his mouth widening a fraction as he raised his arm and glanced at his watch, "Three. Two. One."

There was a sudden solid "thunk" from the roof above them, and then the soft "paff paff paff" sound of something, a lot of somethings, exploding outside from the direction of the parking lot.

Duo's eyes bulged from his head as he spun around on his heel and bolted for the back door. Heero followed sedately in the braided man's wake, almost sauntering into the kitchen. Wufei watched as Duo dashed past him, a look of horrified anticipation on his face. The previous shift crew scattered as Duo dove into their midst and slammed into the door, stopping short in his haste to get outside. Wufei stood and followed behind Heero as he strolled through the parted ranks for the now open door.

"YUY!"

The scream was primal, bloodcurdling, and vengeful. There was an edge of panic in it that offset the rage a hair, and a trembling hint of pain that made Duo's voice crack on the last second or two of vocalization. Privately, Wufei was amazed. He didn't know the human throat was capable of producing so expressive a sound, especially at that volume. Hell, he didn't know the human voice was capable of hitting that volume without electronic help.

The two of them slipped through the door, Heero pausing and crossing his arms over his chest once again as Wufei continued past him to examine the scene.

Duo stood, knees bent and body trembling, a half dozen paces from his beloved 69' Camaro, his hands clenched into fists by his side. The car, however, was in worse shape, as it was covered in dinner plate sized splotches of creamy white foam and a few tattered remains of thin balloons. An awful lot of dinner plate sized splotches of creamy white foam.

"You have a death wish, don't you?" Wufei muttered to Heero who had moved up a pace to stand beside him.

"It's the same wash and wax stuff he uses at home. I just agitated it into a stiff froth," Heero confided in a low whisper.

The laugh surprised him, bursting from his throat unbidden as he watched Duo try to assimilate the "candy coating" of his one and only true love. With a shake of his head, Wufei let the laugh have its way with him.

Duo spun on a heel, the flash in his amethyst gaze murderous. Worse than murderous. Wufei felt the laugh freeze in his lungs.

"When I'm done stringing his intestines from the front flag pole, you're next."

"Oh my god, Duo! What happened to your car?!" someone cried from near the front of the engine house.

"Shut up, Quatre," Duo snapped, advancing on Heero, "You could be next."

Wufei was surprised to hear Heero humming- no. singing something softly, almost under his breath, as Duo approached. After the second repeat, Wufei finally caught the singsong words.

"C-A-M. A-R-O. Ob, se, ssed," sung to the tune of the Mickey Mouse Club Song.

Wufei's eyebrows shot into his hairline as he contemplated the scene. He wasn't sure which was more frightening, Heero singing, or the additional flash of rage as Duo comprehended the softly sung words.

"There are worse things than death, Yuy," Duo growled, his voice rumbling dangerously, "And you're going to become intimately acquainted with every one of them."

"Really?" Heero replied, his tone the very picture of boredom as he once again raised his arm up and peered at his watch, "Three. Two."

Duo spun on his heel again, his eyes going wide with another wave of horror as he tried to sprint to his car to avert whatever fate Heero had planned for it.

"One."

There was a slight hiss from the roof, like the sound of a firehose being opened up, and a gentle rain of water arched over the peak to sprinkle gracefully down over the racy black Camaro. Duo pulled up short as the frosting of white foam gently slipped off the muscle car, dripping to thin puddles on the concrete. After a few moments, once all the foam had been rinsed away, the gentle rain ceased, leaving only the puddles in the parking lot as evidence. Heero bent down and retrieved a bottle from its hiding place beside the back door. Duo turned and speared him with an incredulous look as he approached and pressed the bottle into the braided man's hand.

"You may want to wait until it dries before applying the second coat," Heero said with a wink.

Then he turned, and casually strolled back into the firehouse, without even a glance behind him.

Duo blinked and stared down at his own bottle of Wash and Wax. After a very long moment, he looked back up and met Wufei's wide-eyed gaze.

"Even his practical jokes come off perfectly. I give up."

As Duo threw his hands in the air and turned back to inspect his car, Wufei allowed the stifled laughter to burst from him again.

Looked like things were back to normal at Engine House No. 8.

* * *

Everyone focused on Heero as the Japanese man's head snapped up, his deep blue eyes riveted to the speaker hanging high on the wall in the kitchen/living room of the engine house. If the speaker had popped, signaling an incoming call, no one else had heard it over their training video, but Heero had always been slightly uncanny when it came to anticipating action.

A moment or two after Heero's head had jerked up to stab the speaker with his intense glare, a familiar electronic tone filled the pregnant silence.

"This is an automatic alarm for Engine 8, Truck 2, and Battalion 1. Need you to go to 2328 Constitution Drive, the Imperrator Plaza. Have a report of their fire alarm system going off."

Before the entire call had come through, Heero, Duo, and Zechs were already dashing for the rig bay, one ear open for the rest of the details as they started tossing on their bunkers and shrugging on equipment.

"Hey. Isn't that that five star hotel place over near Panther Prairie Golf Estates?" Duo yelled as he finished snapping one last closure on his rig pants before he hopped into the driver's seat and palmed the door opener.

Zechs' and Heero's voices grunted an agreement in unison, only marginally slower jumping up into their own seats because of the extra equipment they had to shrug on.

"Rock and roll. We're out!" Duo yelled, starting to roll Engine 8 out the bay door before Heero had even gotten his door shut, trusting the firefighter to slam it closed before it could hit the wall. An instant before metal could make contact with concrete, the door snapped shut, the lights and sirens flicked on, traffic stopped, and like the well oiled machine Engine 8 and her crew was, the rig pulled onto the street and raced away.

From the kitchen doorway, Trowa and Quatre stood, watching as the tail end of the rig vanished from sight. Quatre was surprised by the secretive half smile on his partner's face.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Green eyes darted down, slipping comfortably over blonde hair and pale skin.

"Nice to see things back to normal," was his quiet reply.

"Normal being a relative term.." Quatre replied, indulging himself in a sunny grin.

Trowa snorted quietly, shaking his head as he slipped back through the door into the kitchen and the last half of their training video.

* * *

Heero finished snapping his bunker coat closed, slapping the Velcro flap over the metal snaps with practiced hands, and then settled back into his seat to shrug on the bulky SCBA tank assembly. He'd pulled the straps up onto his shoulders, cinched them down, buckled the waist belt tightly, and was reaching forward to slip on his helmet when some inner sense prompted him to pause. This was just another automatic alarm, like any other. Probably someone making popcorn in their room and let it go over long and burn. or someone smoking under a detector. or even just an electronic failure. They'd show up, find the offending detector, fix the problem, reset the system, and trudge on back to the engine house to patiently wait for their adrenaline to fade. Just like every other automatic alarm he'd ever been on.

Then why did he suddenly have this urge to get his mask on and be ready for some real action? There was never any harm in being overly prepared. With a shrug, he gave in to his inner discomfort, and pulled his hood down onto his neck so he could slip on his mask. Once that was on and cinched tight, he slipped his hood back up and popped on his helmet. The gloves were last to be donned, and the pick-headed ax made the ensemble complete. He spared a glance to the rapidly passing terrain; they were halfway there, and most likely to be the first rig in. Nodding to himself, he turned in his seat to see his captain, surprised a little when he noticed that Zechs, too, had donned his mask as if he was anticipating real action. Zechs seemed to feel his gaze, for he spared a quick look back, something sparking between them as each noticed the other's preparedness. Heero nodded, and then settled back into his seat, waiting for Duo to work his magic and get them to their destination.

As the rig turned sharply onto the main drag that would lead them the half-mile to Constitution Drive, Duo whistled sharply, biting off an exclamation.

Heero turned in his seat again, his breath stuttering in his throat for a brief moment as he took in the thick belch of black smoke erupting from one of the upper floors of the posh hotel.

"Looks like we got a cooker!" Duo called over the sound of the rumbling diesel engine separating them.

Heero grunted an agreement, even as Zechs radioed back to Control to advise them to upgrade the alarm to a general and get another four rigs on their way. The Japanese firefighter absently noted when Control responded, toning out another four rigs before Battalion 1 instructed Zechs that primary objective would be rescue, rather than fire suppression. Zechs was acknowledging that even as Engine 8 made the turn onto the right street and screamed through the traffic towards their objective. In the distance, Heero could faintly make out the wail of Truck 2's siren as Engine 8 screeched to a halt just beyond the front doors of the Imperrator. Before the rig had even completely settled, Heero had his door open, and was hopping out. He paused at one of the compartments long enough to grab a bundle of hose they called a High-rise Pack: 100 foot of inch and a half line, with a three foot length of two and a half inch line and a splitter that they could hook up to a stand pipe on an upper floor of the hotel so they could have some sort of water if need be. Once that was shouldered, he was on Zechs' heel, following his captain into the building, Duo but a couple of heartbeats behind.

An excitable older man met them in the lobby, and with much hand waving and squeaking, directed them to the elevator and the 23rd floor. It took Zechs precious seconds to calm the man enough to get a clear picture of what was going on and discover that there had been some sort of explosion. The resulting fire had spread quickly through the 23rd floor, draining the sprinkler system rapidly without putting much of a dent in the fire itself. Initial reports estimated about half a dozen registered guests on that floor unaccounted for, and possibly trapped in their rooms. Before the hotel manager could get excited once more and waste any more of their time, Zechs Duo and Heero left him behind and vanished into the waiting elevator.

"We'll get off on the 22nd floor and take the stairwell up. The standpipe should be in the stairwell. Get it hooked up and ready to go. We' ll split up and search room to room. All the electronic locks will have been tripped, so all the rooms should be open. Leave the door open while you're inside the room, and after you've searched it. Understood?" Zechs instructed.

Duo and Heero nodded, taking a moment to reach behind them and turn on their air tanks. The doors dinged and quietly slipped open. A very light haze of smoke filled the hallway, drifting down through the air handling system to lower floors. Floors above the 23rd would probably be much worse, as the smoke rose through ducts and ceilings and stairwells. The three of them quickly exited the elevator and turned down the long hallway, moving as one for the stairwell. As soon as they opened the heavy fire door, they could tell something was wrong. Very wrong.

Thick banks of heavy black and grey smoke pressed down from above, forcing them to slap their regulators into place. Heero shifted his grip on his ax and hose pack, then followed after Zechs and Duo as they crawled up the stairs to the floor above. As soon as they arrived at the right landing, Heero was efficiently unpacking the hose, while Duo unscrewed the cap from the standpipe. Zechs was busy examining the shattered remains of the stairwell door as Heero and Duo got the hose hooked up and laid out as best they could in the tight confines of the stairwell. Heero grabbed a few folds of the hose and stretched it out on the stairs to the floor above, then gave Duo the signal to open the valve. With a slight grunt, the braided driver spun the handle open and waited for water to flush the hose.

Nothing happened.

"Standpipes and the sprinkler system are all interconnected!" Duo shouted to his Captain.

Zechs nodded, unsurprised, and motioned both his firefighters close.

"You two take the left side of the hall, I'll take the right. Heero, lay the hose out down the center of the hall so we can find our way out of we get disoriented. Down by the elevators, the hallway splits into another two wings. I'll take the branch on the right, you guys take the branch on the left. Heero, left side, Duo, right side. If you find anyone, radio and let everyone know before you start evacuating them. RIT team should be ready and waiting before then. When you split up, leave the hose by the elevators, and hook your search lines to it. Got it? Any questions?"

A pair of nods, followed by identical negative shakes answered him.

"Half an hour, then you retreat."

The three crawled into the black shroud.

* * *

"This is a General Alarm. Section 8A. 2328 Constitution Drive, Imperrator Plaza. Have a report of an explosion and fire on the 23rd floor."

Trowa and Quatre's heads snapped up as the tones started blaring over the speaker, a quick familiar jolt of adrenaline slicing through them. Moments after the speaker went silent, they caught the faint pop of another call coming in and waited patiently for the next set of tones.

"Medic 6, Medic 8, Medic 5, need you to respond to 2328 Constitution, possible Code Blue."

"Civilian victims," Quatre murmured as he and his partner leaped to their feet and darted out the kitchen door.

Trowa grunted an agreement as the two of them slid into their seats and toggled on the lights and sirens. The ambulance rumbled to life and slid out the door, leaving Engine House No. 8 empty behind them.

* * *

Heero waited at the junction of the three wings for Duo to catch up. They'd split their side of the hallway, each taking every other room, and promising to meet at the elevators. While they'd been searching, another rig had arrived and hooked the building into the nearest hydrant, supplementing the standpipe and sprinkler system with a fresh influx of water. The hose Heero had been dragging had flushed full about halfway down the hall, some ten minutes ago, offering them some relief from the punishing heat and flames. Every so often, he would direct a fresh spray up into the dense smoke along the ceiling, trying to cool off the thermal layer bit by bit. It was as he shut down the line that he felt a hand grab his ankle firmly and a figure drag himself up beside him. Duo appeared at his side, leaning his head in close until their masks touched so that they could hear each other over the roar of the nearby flames.

"Ready?" he yelled, holding out the end clip of his 100 feet of rescue rope.

Heero nodded, laying the hose down and fishing his own rope out of his pocket. He tugged on the end fastened to his bunker pants firmly to make sure it wouldn't come loose, and then clipped the other end to the nozzle of the hose. He watched carefully as Duo mimicked him, clipping his own line in and gave it a good yank to make sure it, too, was secure.

"See ya in fifteen," Duo yelled, giving Heero's shoulder a squeeze as he moved off towards the right hand side of the left hallway.

Heero grunted an agreement and crawled towards the left-hand side, keeping one hand on the wall itself to keep from losing his way. The smoke soon swallowed Duo up, even though the other man was but a bare few feet away.

As he came to the first door, he knelt up enough to reach the knob and shove the door open. He followed the door as it swung open and grabbed the small wire cord hanging on the inner wall, the loop designed to keep the door open for housekeeping, and looped it over the inner knob. Satisfied that the door would remain open, he crawled into the room, keeping one hand on a wall or an article of furniture at all times as he made his way around the room. With a quick sweep of his arm, foot, or ax, he checked on and under every bed, behind every chair, inside the closet, and even under every dresser and table. Like every other room he'd been to thus far, it was empty. Forty seconds after he entered the room, he was crawling back out, turning to his left to continue down the hallway.

His radio squawked loudly as Duo keyed up his mike. The braided driver had found a victim and was calling for the RIT team to meet him in the stairwell. Zechs broke in quickly to tell Heero to continue his search for another fifteen minutes and then pull out. Heero acknowledged it quickly and then knelt up to shove open the next door.

Nine minutes later, Heero crawled into the throat of the fire. The cherry glow raged over his head as he started shifting his way through debris in the hallway. Pieces of wall and floor were broken and missing in spots as he pressed on, forcing him to lose precious seconds radioing back the danger to other firefighters. As he reached for where the next doorknob was supposed to be, he pitched over forward, surprised by the absence of even a door. The frame was twisted and shattered, and much of the surrounding architecture littered the floor of both hallway and room entry. Heero limbered up his ax to shove the debris out of the way, careful to keep his rescue line from getting tangled as he forced his way into the room.

Once past the doorway, the flotsam was sparse, but heavy. He had to push his way past an upended bed, and a tipped dresser at one point, before he came to the bathroom door. This door, unlike any of the others he'd come to before, was closed. With a frown, he turned the knob and gave the door a shove. It resisted his manipulations, the wood groaning under his shoulder as he slowly forced it open. Heero dropped his ax, shoving it to the side so he could reach that arm around the door and feel around on the floor. Something soft and unyielding met his grasp. Even through his thick heavy fire gloves, he could tell that the solid obstacle was a human body, lying against the back of the door.

Carefully maneuvering so that he could use his arm to help guide the body out of the way, he managed to force the door open enough to get into the bathroom. His flashlight scanned over the unconscious form quickly. No apparent injuries, no entanglements, and best yet, he could detect the slow rise and fall of the woman's chest as she struggled to breathe in the choking acrid smoke.

Even as his mind was noting the short sleeve shirt and skirt she wore, he was retreating back to the bedroom to yank one of the thick blankets off the bed to wrap her in. It wouldn't be much of a barrier against the intense heat, but it would be better than her clothing alone. As he returned and wrapped her into a tight cocoon, he keyed up his mike and called for another RIT team to meet him in the same stairwell they'd entered the floor from, to aid him with the rescue of a civilian victim.

He was already dragging the woman into the room and out into the hallway beyond when he heard the Batt Chief acknowledge his call and send fresh firefighters up to meet him. Heero was careful to wrap his rescue line around the cocoon of blanket and woman as he retreated, both to keep himself from getting entangled, and to keep his burden close to him as he quickly pulled her to safety. He'd almost reached the hose again when another group of firefighters bumped into him from that direction, wielding their own hose to help put out the flames.

"Give me a few before you open that nozzle," he yelled to the firefighter on the front of the hose, "Got a victim!"

"Got it!"

Confident that they wouldn't steam bake his burden, Heero continued until he could unclip his rope and hook it in to the woman he was dragging. Now fully unencumbered from his rescue line, he yanked out his length of tube webbing, wrapped it securely around her shoulders, fastened it to his SCBA harness with a heavy duty clip, and then began his rapid escape from the choking inferno.

He was almost to the end of the hallway, to the relative safety of the stairwell, when he heard the team behind him open up the hose they'd brought with them. The hiss of steam and dull roar of the rapidly diminishing flames exploded behind him, spurring him on.

He tumbled through the doorway, literally landing in the arms of the waiting RIT team. Not sparing another moment, he gave his tube webbing a firm yank, pulling his victim into the stairwell with him and shouldering her quickly. The RIT team, having caught his air of urgency, helped keep his burden steady as they fled down a flight of stairs. Behind them, a cloud of superheated steam and smoke erupted from the doorway and flashed upwards. Once they reached the next level down, Heero slipped through the door into the relatively smoke free hallway and turned the bundle over to the RIT team.

Fresher hands quickly untangled his rescue line and tube webbing from her, rewrapping the blanket around her firmly before she was carefully slung over someone's shoulder. With a hearty slap to his back, the RIT team slipped back out the door, guiding Heero along with them as they clomped their way down 22 flights of stairs to the ground level.

As they burst from the stairwell into the end of the long Lobby, Heero's tank buzzer started going off; he spared a brief second to flip his helmet back enough to yank the fogged over mask off and suck in a lungful of clean fresh air. Meanwhile, the RIT team was busy carrying his victim over to the waiting ambulance, where Trowa and Quatre were readying a gurney. Heero followed, radioing to Zechs along the way that he was out of the building and waiting on ground level. His captain advised him to remain down in the EMS area until the rest of their crew arrived to go to Rehab, to which Heero grunted an affirmative. Duo appeared at his elbow as he continued over to Medic 6, arriving just in time for Trowa to finish cutting the blanket off of the woman.

"Smart thinking," the quiet paramedic complimented as he took in the woman's relatively unburned state and her unassisted breathing.

Heero shrugged, dodging the wad of ruined blanket as Quatre tossed it out of their way prior to getting her settled on their gurney for examination.

"Yeah, excellent thinking, Heero. Wrapping her like that saved her life," Quatre agreed.

The woman's cornflower blue eyes popped open, fixing immediately on Heero's ash smudged face. One sculptured hand weakly shoved a sweaty wheat colored bang out of her line of sight before Trowa reached down and soothingly settled her arms back to her sides.

"You need to be still, ma'am. You've been through a fire, but you're safe now. We're going to check you over and get you to the hospital to be treated, okay?" Quatre's calm voice soothed gently.

Her gaze never left Heero's face as the two paramedics wrapped her into a fresh medical blanket and strapped her to the gurney to be loaded into the ambulance.

"You saved me," she whispered weakly, one hand trying to reach out to Heero where he stood watching silently.

"It's all right. You're in good hands. Just relax," Duo said from beside his partner.

Her gaze never wavered, remaining firmly trapped in Heero's, even when the braided firefighter slipped between the two of them to help lift the gurney into the ambulance.

Suddenly, a hand descended upon Heero's shoulder, and a familiar bedraggled mane of platinum hair brushed past him as Captain Zechs slipped up into their midst.

"Do you guys need a rider[1] in to the hospital?" he asked, stepping up to the tailgate to lean in and glance at the female patient within.

"No, we should be good, I think," Quatre answered, shifting a little, and opening a line of sight between the woman and the Captain of Engine 8.

Her expression jumped, startled, as she tore her eyes away from Heero finally and fastened them firmly onto Zechs. Everyone paused at her dumbfounded exclamation as their gazes met and sparked.

"Milliardo. I found you," she breathed, her voice a study of wonderment and surprise.

Zechs jumped, his own ice blue eyes widening in almost comic dismay and shock as he finally got a good look at her. When he opened his mouth, a single word tumbled out, devoid of all emotion, save a glazing of resignation.

"Relena."

* * *

~TBC~

Notes  
[1] rider - Occasionally, the ambulance crew needs an extra set of hands, since one of the two of the paramedics has to drive the ambulance in to the hospital. Usually, they grab the nearest firefighter. We call that "taking a rider."


	17. Chapter 16

Reach through, grab, pull through, form the loop. Reach through, grab, pull through, form the loop. Heero's attention narrowed down onto his hands as his fingers danced along the sooty length of his rescue/search line, efficiently tying it into and endless series of slipknots. Reach though, grab, pull through, form the loop. Reach through, grab, pull through, form the loop. It was easy for him to tune out the world in such a soothing, repetitive task. Like the almost trance he used to put himself into when he cleaned his rifle after a mission, he could let his world narrow down to the task at hand and keep his mind from wandering down uncomfortable hallways. Reach through, grab, pull through, form the loop.

Inch by inch of the thin cord quickly wove its way into a thicker rope, the loops intertwining, back upon one another, in an endless ribbon. Each bit was interconnected with the bit before and after. Consolidating. Supporting. Protecting. From the beginning, you could pull with all your might, and it would serve only to tighten the weave in on itself, strengthening the bond. From the other. From the other end, however, a simple tug would unravel the whole design, loop by meticulously tied loop.

So much like life.

Unbidden, his cobalt gaze shifted over to where his Captain stood nervously nursing his third cup of coffee, pacing from one wall in the dingy little emergency room waiting area, to another. His sweaty bangs had long since dried to dull straggles on his forehead, plastering themselves into his eyes. Zechs' boots clomped fitfully against the drab linoleum tiles as he continued his restless trek, shooting an evil glare at the passing nurses every so often.

In his lap, the rescue line dwindled from its 100' length to a finely crafted woven nest, 10' long. Heero turned it over in his hands, examining the whole length once again, fingering the odd twists in the cord with a hint of annoyance. It was never as simple as it looked, weaving the Bird's Nest Knot.

Neither was life.

His glance darted back up to Zechs across the room as his fingers absently ran over the last loop he'd tied. One little pull and the whole thing would slowly unravel. One little disturbance could unweave it all. His hand flexed, and he tugged gently at that end. The loops slowly started to play themselves back out, the knot coming apart inch by inch.

Relena. Zechs' sister. Correction. Zechs' estranged sister.

Little by little, Heero worked his way down the length of cord, slowly playing it out and undoing the carefully crafted knots on his inexorable journey to the anchor end. His deep blue eyes watched the rope pool in awkward whorls at his feet, slipping off of his knees in tumbles as the cord played out. He finally reached the clasp that fastened the whole ensemble to his bunker pants. The anchor.

Wufei.

How metaphorical. With a snort, Heero started the long process of retying his rope into its neat nesting again, just trying to fill the time while they waited for word on the condition of Zechs' sister. Reach through, grab, pull through, form the loop. Reach through, grab, pull through, form the loop. Once again, his hands danced through the motions. This time, however, he barely spared his fingers a glance as they continued their work without him. Instead, his fascinated gaze followed the ebb and flow of people, nurses, doctors, patients, flowing past the door to their private little waiting area. In no time, without conscious effort, the cord shrank back down into its thick weave once again.

Heero found himself drawn back to its intricate folds, loops, and twists. Once again, his fingers slowly worked their way into that first loop, tugging at it almost warningly. Just a bit more, just a tiny slip, and it would all come apart.

Relena. The woman he'd pulled from the flames. The eyes of a child.

His fingers shifted, his palm flattening out over the coil, pressing it into his thigh as he peered down at it. Cocking his head to one side as he stared at the cord, he slowly began to unravel it again, concentrating on how each and every loop slowly vanished into the one before it.

Her doe-like gaze had caught him unawares. He'd read the stubbornness of her survival in those pale blue orbs. He'd also seen the adoration there too. That sickening mix of fear and wonderment that the uninitiated equated with need had darkened those pale eyes to a stormy blue and cast a pall over his own accomplishment. She would be back. He'd seen it before. She would be back to unravel his neat and ordered life.

His fingers continued their work, flexing against each precise twist, pulling against every simple fold, until he once again found himself staring down in surprise at a pool of unraveled cord, and the firm metal clip of the anchor point.

He sorted to himself as he mused upon the rope once again. Zechs at least had Wufei as his anchor against the meddling fingers of fate. All Heero had was.

The image of a damp mane of chestnut hair and the faintest scent of vanilla and hazelnut flashed into his mind.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Duo walked into the room, a collection of steaming styrofoam cups balanced precariously in once hand, while another hand carefully cradled a plain white paper sack.

As Duo juggled cups, sack, contents, and his own hands, forcibly planting himself in Zechs' path long enough to press items into the Captain' s hands, Heero's hands started dancing over the cord again. Reach through, grab, pull through, form the loop. The soft, almost inaudible creak of a well-worn recliner, shifting as it rocked slowly, and the sibilant hiss of that long fall of dark golden brown hair rustling across the floor in time with those creaks filled his mind's ear. Almost absently, he let his cobalt eyes wander over to where Duo was fishing more items out of the sack now clutched in his teeth to pass to Wufei. Zechs had been manhandled into a chair beside the Chinese man, and was being sternly ordered to eat the sandwich clutched awkwardly in nerveless fingers by both braided driver, and Asian investigator.

His fingers stumbled to a halt in his lap, thwarted by the warm steel clip at the end of his newly woven coil. Heero blinked down at the perfect Bird's Nest in his lap, surprised by the speed he'd managed to weave the 100 ' cord, with the memory of Duo rocking gently in his battered recliner occupying his mind.

A white blur interrupted his view, slipping between his focused stare and the tumble of loops and knots on his lap. He blinked again, his body instinctively tensing and drawing back away from the intrusion until he recognized the intruder as a white styrofoam cup being held in a sooty hand.

"Heero?"

Duo's slightly worried face hove into view above him as he glanced up.

"You okay?" Duo asked, one eyebrow cocked as he waggled the cup of coffee in Heero's line of sight again.

"Fine."

"You sure? You looked kinda spacy there," Duo expounded as he plopped to a seat beside the Japanese man.

Heero carefully stowed the precise twists of his rescue line into its pocket on his bunker pants, and then reached out to take the cup Duo was proffering him.

"Hn. Just thinking."

"About rope?" Duo asked, surprised, reaching into the sack on his lap to grab another wrapped sandwich to drop into the unsuspecting Heero's lap.

Heero shook his head as his thoughtful stare caressed the shiny cellophane covering the bread and meat and cheese.

"Fate. Life. Anchors," he finally admitted as he picked the sandwich up and examined it, turning it this way and that, immersed in the shimmering angles.

"Deep," Duo mused, ripping the plastic off of his own sandwich and pausing to blink at Heero's perplexing concentration, "It's a sandwich, Heero. Bread. Fake animal protein. Processed cheese food product. It's not beautiful, and questionably nutritious, but it's at least edible. Usually. Typically, one eats a sandwich."

"Hn."

"It's better than letting you guys starve. I swear, you'd all fall apart without someone to look after you. Don't make me bully you into takin' care of yourself like I had to Trowa and Quatre. Even you need to eat, Yuy."

Heero caught himself flinching at the harsh tone in Duo's voice. He suddenly found himself wondering when his name had become such an epithet. Why it tasted so dark and brusque on Duo's lips.

"Hn."

His fingers shifted without conscious decision again, worming under the clinging plastic, tearing it away to expose ham and swiss on whole wheat. Beside him, Duo nodded, satisfied, and Heero lifted the impromptu lunch to his mouth and methodically consumed it, one slow bite at a time.

Yuy. Not Heero, but Yuy. Unbidden, the quick ghost of a memory of himself growling out "Maxwell" rather than "Duo" sprang to the forefront of his mind. He felt a faint pang of guilt stab down his spine.

"Gomen, Duo," he murmured quietly, knowing how inadequate the apology was, but unable to offer anything else. Yet.

"No prob, man," was the cheerful reply, forced out around a massive bite of pastrami on rye.

Heero snorted at the sight, amused despite himself, before he let his mind wander back to its thoughts.

Yuy. Maxwell. Dr. J's weak but sinister chuckle and the thinly veiled threat against Duo as he lay sleeping in the hospital bed but a few days before. The swiftest flash of betrayal in Duo's amethyst glare as he took in the white coating across Deathscythe. A damp towel dropping unheeded to the floor, and the so faint scent of vanilla and hazelnut. The memories chased themselves around in his brain like dogs on a track, tumbling over one another in their clamor for recognition.

His introspection was interrupted when Zechs suddenly surged to his feet, muttering something about getting some answers, before he stalked out the door, Wufei in his wake. Heero tracked their progress until they vanished around a corner near the room where Relena was being treated. Heero 's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, staring down at his occupied hands, before resuming his mental inquiry.

How could this be happening? He couldn't afford to form friendships. Attachments. They were dangerous. And yet, something about the cheerfully insidious prattle of the braided baka was slowly worming its way into him. He could see it happening, and yet was still powerless to do anything about it.

He didn't want to do anything about it.

He paused, mid-bite, as the thought struck him totally off guard. What had happened to his neat and ordered life? What had happened with his simplicity? When had he started encouraging these encumbrances?

"She was kinda cute, wasn't she?" Duo observed quietly beside him.

"Nani?"

Heero's gaze snapped up to the braided man's face, brows creased in confusion at the soft question.

"I said, she was kinda cute."

Heero frowned and glanced away sharply, strangely uncomfortable with that tack of thought. Duo thought she was cute? What was it about that observation that made Heero's chest ache ever so slightly without his permission? And why had the braided driver said that in such a. subdued voice? Almost like he was afraid.

"She was barely conscious. How could you tell?" Heero grumbled sullenly.

"Whoa. Sorry man. Just tryin' to make small talk, that's all. Shouldda known better," Duo replied, holding up his hands pacifistically, "You just looked way thoughtful again, and I assumed you were thinkin' about her."

"Why?"

"I dunno." Duo replied with a shrug, popping the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth and washing it down with his soda before he continued, "You've just been quieter than usual today since you pulled her out of that place. Just thought you might have been thinkin' about her since she seemed pretty focused on you and she was kinda cute, I guess."

Heero's sharp mind instantly seized on the qualifier.

"You guess?"

Duo glanced over at him, peeking through his unruly bangs almost shyly with a mischievous grin teasing his lips.

"Yeah, I guess. Not my bag," he replied with another shrug, wadding his celophane up and stuffing it into his empty cup.

Heero's eyes tracked the small bundle as it sailed in a perfect arch to land in the trash can sitting by the door.

"Hn."

He followed Duo's example, wadding his trash into a tight ball that he tossed into the can with a casual flick of his wrist.

"So. What were you thinkin' about?" Duo asked nonchalantly.

Heero glanced back to his partner, eyes narrowing as Duo studiously examined the soot under the nails of his left hand.

"Fear," he found his mouth saying.

Fear? Where the hell had that come from?

"You?" Duo squeaked before he snorted mirthlessly, "You're not afraid of anything, superstar."

"Everyone's afraid of something, M- Duo."

"Even the unflappable Heero Yuy?" Duo asked with mock surprise.

Heero quirked up a single eyebrow before leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, silently staring down at the cracked and yellowed linoleum between his big boots.

"Almost had ya there, Heero. One of these days, I'm tellin' ya, I'm gonna get under that thick skin of yours," Duo assured him with a cheerful wink.

Inwardly, Heero winced. One of these days? Too late for that.

"Why bother?"

Duo gave a short, sharp bark of laughter as he stood and wiped his hands down his filthy bunkers.

"Because if there's one thing Duo Maxwell can't resist, it's a challenge," he confided before he tossed another wink at his partner and then strode out the door in search of their Captain.

"Lucky me."

As Heero glanced around the now deserted waiting room, he couldn't honestly say for sure if he'd meant that sarcastically, or not.

* * *

"So. She's here," Wufei observed neutrally as Zechs waited just outside the door.

"Appears that way," Zechs answered, his voice rough and deep, like muted thunder, as he stared morosely at the closed door.

"It could have been a coincidence," Wufei said.

Zechs turned and speared him with a sharp glance of disbelief.

"Even if it was, which I highly doubt. she's as tenacious as a Goshawk, it's too late. She's seen me."

"Perhaps we could get the doctors to try and convince her that it was a hallucination brought on by the smoke she inhaled?" Wufei offered.

Zechs winced as his sister's voice rose sharply beyond the heavy wooden door, berating the doctors treating her, and calling for "Milliardo."

"You were saying?" he asked dryly.

"It was just a thought."

The door swung open without warning, and a young man in a lab coat with a medical chart clutched in his white-knuckled grasp slipped out and shut it with a decisive snap once more. He leaned against the wall beside the heavy door for a moment, taking deep, calming, relieved breaths.

"Doctor?" Zechs said quietly.

The man jumped, startled, and flashed a wide-eyed stare at Zechs.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Captain Merquise. She's."

"A difficult patient at best. Yes. I'm familiar," Zechs interrupted with a nod.

"You brought her in?"

"My firefighter rescued her, and my Paramedics brought her in," Zechs replied.

"Ah. She's asking to see the firefighter who rescued her. And a. Milliardo?"

Zechs' eyes shut as he heaved a resigned sigh and slumped.

"That would be me."

Wufei dropped an unobtrusive hand on Zechs' arm and met the doctor's long-suffering stare.

"Don't suppose you could convince her that that part was a delusion?" the Chinese man asked hopefully.

Zechs shook his head as he pushed himself away from his slump against the wall.

"I'll go find Yuy. I'm not sending him in there alone. Or myself," Zechs said fatalistically.

Wufei snorted mirthlessly as Zechs pushed away from the wall and tromped painfully down the hallway towards the waiting room.

The doctor blinked after the retreating captain with a confused expression.

"Is everything."

"Don't mind him. It's just been one of those days, and it's not even lunch time yet," Wufei replied, turning to follow Zechs down the hall.

* * *

"Yuy."

Heero jerked and tore his eyes away from his hands as Zechs' voice broke his blank contemplation. He hopped to his feet, suspender buckles jangling pleasantly against the metal catches on his bunker pants, and turned towards the door where his Captain stood.

"She wants to see you."

He couldn't quite stifle the sigh or the slight wince at the thought of facing the woman again. There was something frighteningly unsettling about her fervent cornflower gaze that sent tremors of trepidation down his spine.

"Don't worry. I'll be there with you," Zechs assured him, his own voice strangely resigned and fatalistic.

"Sir?"

"Don't ask. Just. Just don't ask," Zechs sighed in reply, shaking his head and slipping back out the door.

Heero jogged a few steps to catch up, joining his captain in the hallway and falling into step beside him. Wufei and Duo stepped aside to let them pass, Wufei leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, and Duo slouching with his hands hooked into the straps of his bunker's suspenders.

"With the expressions on your faces, I feel like I should be singing a funeral dirge or something. Maybe the Imperial Death March from Star Wars," Duo said wryly.

Neither Captain nor firefighter deigned to answer that as they passed and continued to the door at the end of the hallway. Zechs knocked softly on the door and waited a moment before pushing it open and ushering Heero in.

The first thing he saw was her toes, peeking out from under the thin hospital blanket that was spread over her legs to ward of the sterile chill of the too tiny room. Idly, he noted the perfect pink pedicure before she shifted to draw her legs up under the blanket defensively.

"Hello," she said shyly, her voice suddenly quiet and demure compared to the banshee wail he'd heard coming down the hall before.

Before he could acknowledge her greeting, Zechs slipped through the door and stopped beside him. The woman's eyes grew round for a moment, before narrowing judgmentally as she took in his appearance.

"Milliardo. It wasn't a dream then," she murmured.

Beside him, Heero felt Zechs suddenly stiffen and almost inaudibly mutter a rather fierce expletive.

"You must have mistaken me for someone else, mam. My name is Zechs. Captain Zechs Merquise."

She scowled and sat up straighter in bed, clutching the blanket to her chest with an exasperated, and very unladylike snort.

"You're not still about that foolishness, are you Milliardo?" she sighed, before giving him a once over again, "Obviously you are. When-"

"Perhaps this isn't the best time for this discussion, Relena," Zechs interrupted, his voice tired, yet not defeated as he nodded his head at Heero.

Relena sniffed delicately and shifted again, once again assuming a somewhat dignified air, despite being reclined on an ER bed dressed in nothing more than a very thin pink flowered hospital gown and a pair of starchy thin hospital blankets.

"Perhaps you're right, Milliardo," she replied easily, emphasizing the name with mild rebuke before she turned her attention back to Heero, "I wished to thank you for saving my life. I hear that without you I would not have survived the fire."

"You're welcome," he murmured quietly, shifting uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

"I will find some more appropriate way to truly thank you once they release me from the hospital here."

"No need for that."

"Nonsense-"

"He's right," Zechs interrupted again, "We were all just doing our jobs. The only thanks we need is seeing you alive and well."

Relena cocked her head, peering through her long lashes as she stared critically at Heero's Captain.

"Perhaps we should discuss that later as well," she said, her voice dangerously pleasant.

"We should leave you to your rest, Miss Peacecraft. As always, it has been a pleasure speaking with you, and we hope that you recover soon and feel well," Zechs answered smoothly.

"I'm sure."

Zechs inclined his head in a mannerly nod at her before turning on his heel and slipping back out the door. Heero recognized the retreat for what it was and gratefully turned to follow his captain.

"Wait! I didn't get your name," Relena insisted.

"Heero Yuy," he replied reluctantly without turning around.

"Thank you again, Heero. I owe you my life."

He nodded once before following Zechs out the door into the safety of the hallway beyond.

"I'll speak to you again, Heero! Look for me! My name is Relena Peacecraft!" she called shrilly from the room behind him.

"We know that, you little-" Zechs' mutter was interrupted by the sharp squeal of all three of Engine 8's crew members' radios toning at once.

Instinct hurtled them all down the hallways at a dead run, racing towards their patiently waiting rig, and the next call of the day.

* * *

Click, click, tap.

What a fool. Didn't the young dunce realize that They would win in the long run?

Click, click, tap.

He shook his head to himself, his aged face etched with even deeper lines than normal as he scowled harshly. He'd raised the little fool to be smarter than that. Surely he had.

Click, click, tap.

Where had he gone wrong with the Boy? He'd been apprenticed to all the best assassins in the world. He'd been taught the nuances of nearly every known type of commercial firearm, and dozens more that the general public had never even dreamed could exist. He'd been carefully shielded from useless things like compassion and love, while honing indifference and that dead killer's soul.

Click, click, tap.

J had made sure that he was never allowed to stay with any one instructor for long enough to form an attachment. In fact, Heero's graduation exercise from each Master, was the calculated stalking and elimination of the Master whose skills he'd absorbed so effortlessly. Failure was death. Success was perfection. What the hell had happened?

Click, click, tap.

He'd even been taken from his home and his family removed when he was nothing more than a dewy eyed toddler. The team that had been sent had followed their instructions to the letter, right down to ensuring to make the removal as messy as possible, with only one witness to survive the process: the Boy himself.

Click, click, tap.

That was about the only part of the entire sordid mess that seemed to have gone according to plan. The shock of watching as his family was eliminated killed something within the boy, leaving him broken and scarred. And ripe for molding. That's when they sent in Odin.

Click, click, tap.

J gritted his teeth. Odin. It had to be that fool's fault. Odin had always been far too emotional for J's liking. Too sure of himself. There was a difference between assuredness, and cock-suredness.

Click, click, tap.

Odin had to have set the Boy's instructional foundations improperly from the onset. That was the only explanation. J refused to believe that anyone could be strong enough to withstand his rigorous training regimen. Odin had introduced compassion to the Boy.

Click, click, tap.

And then that hateful little street-rat had to slip into the picture. Whatever foundation Odin had laid within the Boy for compassion, that little amethyst-eyed monster was strengthening it. Something about the little piece of trash had gotten to his beautiful Boy. That braided firefighter was festering within J's Perfect Soldier, bringing the angel low.

Click, click, tap.

If only They had listened to him when he'd argued against sending in that flighty pyromaniac as the Boy's first mentor. Odin had single-handedly managed to set back generations of careful plotting and genetic manipulation.

Click, click, tap.

But only for a while. He would see to it. He'd get the boy back for Them, for himself, if it took eliminating every last firefighter in the city.

Click, click, tap.

J paused before an enormous, hand-carved mahogany door, the delicate scrollwork arching sedately across the deep wood like the gently floating flight of butterflies. Or a stop-motion snapshot of flame, burning away the crumbling ashes of an old world, while ushering in the new.

The armed guard to the left of the door nodded suspiciously at him, despite their long eight-year association with each other as members of the Foundation. Smart soldier. Obedient soldier. The stuff that armies were made of.

After a moment, the guard reached over and carefully pushed the door open for the old man, admitting J to the dark recesses of the inner chamber.

Click, click, tap. Click, click, tap. Pause.

"You're alone," the aristocratic voice observed quietly from the high-backed chair near the fireplace, the only source of illumination in the room.

"He was. less than receptive to the offer," J answered carefully.

"You were right, then. His training has been sorely compromised."

"Yes," J replied regretfully.

A faint puff of smoke wafted up from the shadows of the antique chair, wreathing about the occupant's head for a long while before dissipating into the gloom.

"Odin has proved to have been unreliable, I see." the figure mused quietly.

J wisely held his tongue.

"Once again, it seems that we should have listened to you more closely, old man. Perhaps the others will begin to show more sense now."

Once again, J remained silent, holding back his answer.

The figure stirred then, shifting more comfortably into the ornately upholstered 17th century Russian artifact.

"You know what needs to be done, then."

"Yes."

"Very well. I trust your judgment implicitly."

J nodded sharply to himself, the thick goggles hiding the flash of triumph, anticipation, and cold calculation within his failing eyes. He turned to leave.

"Don't shame the Foundation. We aren't ready to step forth from the shadows quite yet," the figure cautioned.

J paused, nodding once more without turning around. Absolute discretion. That would make things just a little bit more difficult. A malicious smile twisted J's thin lips. More difficult, but no less amusing.

"As you wish."

* * *

Wufei picked his way through the ashes, cinders, and debris littering the no longer steaming floor of the hallway very carefully, playing his flashlight over every inch. Here and there, he could see the very faint traces of another set of fresh footprints in the wet mess of the dark corridor. Up ahead, down the hallway, Wufei picked out the unmistakable crash of something large dropping to the floor, followed immediately by the harsh curse of a feminine voice. A wry smile tugged at the arson investigator's lips as he continued down the unlit hallway to the large suite at the end.

The bright laser beam of another flashlight knifed through the darkness of the hallway erratically, accompanied by another thin stream of colorful language. Wufei stepped up to what was left of the wrecked doorway and peered around the jam carefully, biting back an amused snort at the sight of the woman sprawled amidst the broken timbers beyond.

"Typically, it's considered bad form to. uh. Ahem... molest the evidence?" Wufei said dryly.

"You could do something more useful than run your mouth, you know, Chang," the woman replied acerbically.

Wufei stifled the smirk on the back of his hand as he slipped carefully through the mess up to the woman and reached down a hand to her.

"Are you all right, Inspector Noin?"

"Spare me your false concern, Chang," she replied with biting humor as she took Wufei's hand and allowed him to haul her to her feet, "The only thing hurt is my pride."

"I'd best get you some medical attention, then. A wound there might bleed you to death," he shot back.

She glared at him good-naturedly as she carefully dusted her gloved hands off on her soot-caked jeans.

"Always the charmer, I see, Chang."

He bowed to her, stepping neatly away from her as she aimed a clout at the back of his unprotected head.

"You know me well, then," he replied smoothly as he straightened up and turned to help her examine the destroyed remains of the room.

"Hardly," she snorted mirthlessly, "Otherwise I would have been the one who ended up with Zechs."

"You're not still beating that dead horse, are you?" he asked with feigned tired humor, falling into their familiar routine of mock rivalry.

A few years ago, it hadn't been so feigned, or as amusing. Both Noin, a classmate of Zechs' from the Academy, and Wufei, a young firefighter, new to the department, had fallen head over heels for the blond man. As they became aware of the other's devoted attentions, a bitter rivalry had sprung up between the two.

"The horse is alive and kicking, Chang. One of these days, it's going to kick you right in the head," she answered as she concentrated her attention back on the doorway.

"Only if it doesn't bite you first."

Over the years of constant contact through Zechs, the two antagonists had come to something of an understanding, and then, slowly, a warm friendship. Eventually, when Zechs had finally chosen Wufei, Noin had retired from the front line operations to become an Arson Investigator. Wufei had eventually followed her, happier using his mind and intelligence to find the fire and its cause, and hopefully bring a little order and justice to the world in the process, than he'd ever been relying upon brute force and water, trying to keep the beast contained.

Something about hunting fire down in its lair before it could strike appealed to him far stronger than trying to kill it after it had already escaped.

Noin hadn't been surprised. She'd seen the scholar's mind within him during their impromptu war with each other. She took him under her wing, intending to teach him everything she knew about arson and investigation. It proved unnecessary, however, when Wufei's sharp mind quickly assimilated the techniques of the trade, and they both discovered he seemed to have an innate knack for it.

"Dogs bite, Chang," she corrected him offhandedly, "Little yapping dogs, snapping at the heels of my greatness, aspiring to be me."

Once, long ago, she might have been bitter with the Chinese man for stealing the blond Captain from her. Although, when the mood had struck her, that bitter, flaming jealousy she'd endured after Zechs had made his choice clear, she'd finally realized that Zechs had never been hers to steal.

Of course, that had taken a two-week drinking binge that had landed her in the hospital to sink in.

A merry smile broke over her features as she remembered that horrible week in the hospital.

"Perhaps you need the services of a mighty dragon to quell these yapping mongrels for you then?" Wufei offered archly from across the room.

The flashlight in her hands danced over the water-soaked walls and floor as she fondly recalled meeting Doctor Sally Po. Who would have thought that having lost her bid on whom she thought was going to be her one true chance at happiness, would lead her to the very doorstep of real joy? Or rather, lead her to the curtained alcove of real joy, Noin mused to herself, remembering the feisty Doctor attending her in the emergency room.

"That might indeed be useful, Chang. Let me know if you ever happen across such a dragon in your travels. I've never seen one before," she flipped back.

The two women had struck up an instant friendship, each finding something of themselves in the other. It hadn't been long after Noin was finally released from the hospital that the best friends had moved in with each other, having finally found a room mate that they could each stand without the occasional homicidal impulses that accompanied most normal room mate relationships. Now, not only could Noin afford to live in the expensive city, she'd gotten a best friend to boot. Of course, if the signals she thought she was reading from Sally were right, Noin might be moving once again, and the two women might find themselves with a new guest bedroom.

"I'd always heard that 'onnas' were blind," Wufei observed dryly.

Noin shook her head, indulging in a good-natured chuckle.

"So how was the victim? I heard 8's newest rookie pulled her out of here," Noin asked, eyes narrowing as the splintered and cracked plaster and wood of the entranceway began unfolding its tale to her.

"Miss Relena Peacecraft survived, and will be just fine, according to the ER doctors," Wufei answered evenly.

Noin's flashlight paused, halting in its track as she turned and tossed the Chinese man an incredulous look.

"You're kidding."

"I wish I was. She saw him."

Another stream of colorful language burst out over the darkened room.

"Exactly," Wufei agreed.

"Poor Zechs. What's he going to do?" she asked, resuming her inspection.

"Wait and see, I suppose."

"Ah," Noin replied neutrally, "Well, then. You may want to keep a closer eye on him. And that crazy sister of his."

Wufei turned towards her, noting the carefully even tone of her voice, before picking his way delicately across the floor to join her. As she played her light across the doorway, he understood her caution.

"Blast concussion," he murmured, eyeing the patterns cracked and forced into the walls and ceilings of hallway and suite foyer.

"Yup. Incendiary scorches, too," Noin agreed, pointing out the deep char of what could only have been some sort of accelerant driven fire pattern.

"Looks like someone was trying to give Miss Peacecraft an exciting sendoff," Wufei intoned.

"Only you, Wufei, could make an incendiary bomb, sound like a party favor," Noin snorted, "But I guess that rules out accidental ignition."

"Indeed," Wufei agreed, some inner sense sending a trill of warning and foreboding along his spine.

There was a storm brewing on the horizon. And if they weren't careful, it would engulf them all.


	18. Chapter 17

Heero instinctively shifted his weight as Trowa guided the ambulance around another corner at a high rate of speed, sirens blaring and airhorn blasting to clear the intersection. He concentrated on maintaining the steady, quick rhythm to the compressions he was administering to the patient's chest as they screamed to the hospital. In the seat to his right, Zechs was busy forcing puffs of air into the patient's chest through the intubation tube that Heero himself had placed when they'd arrived at the patient's residence and started CPR. The football shaped Ambu bag [1] clutched in Zechs' hands sucked in oxygen enriched air after every compression, while Zechs made sure to keep the tube from sliding further in or further out of the patient's throat with his free hand.

"Intersection coming up!" Trowa shouted back to Quatre and the two Engine 8 firefighters.

It was warning enough so that Heero was able to flex his knees as the ambulance hit the slight dome in the pavement of the intersection and merely bounce his skull off the cabinet across the gurney, rather than going down atop the patient as he would have if he hadn't been prepared. Even Zechs bounced in his seat, losing his grip on the Ambu bag for a moment, although he maintained his death-grip on the tube and it remained firmly in place. Quatre, for his part, didn't even bat an eye as he instinctively adjusted his positioning to keep his balance as the rig shuddered and rocked. In fact, he deftly slid an IV needle into the unresponsive patient's arm, slipped the needle out leaving the catheter behind, connected the IV bag, turned it on, and then whipped off the tourniquet before the rig had even made it all the way through the intersection. Before Heero could even look up and meet the blond paramedic's eyes, Quatre had the IV tubing taped down and secured, and was checking the drip rate on the IV bag.

Satisfied with how well the fluid was flowing into the patient, Quatre leaned over and grabbed the end of the paper strip running from the heart monitor, studying the bouncing squiggly line with a knowing eye. Apparently not satisfied with what he saw, he quickly dove into the drug box [2] at his feet, withdrew a medication, and injected it into the IV tubing right above where it entered the patient through the catheter.

"How are you doing, Heero? Getting tired?" Quatre asked calmly, watching the heart monitor for a reaction.

"Hn. Fine."

"Captain Zechs? You all right?"

"I'm fine Quatre. How's it look?" Zechs asked, nodding at the heart monitor.

"Could be better, could be worse," Quatre replied noncommittally, "One minute to the ER."

Heero nodded and returned his attention to maintaining steady, firm compressions on the chest, timing them to his own heartbeat which was thundering in his ears. Distantly, he felt another rib crack and snap; the fourth since they'd started CPR less than 15 minutes ago, but inconsequential compared to the stillness of the heart beyond them. He glanced at the monitor, satisfied by the sharp peaks and deep valleys on the rhythm strip indicating good CPR. Quatre caught his eye for a brief moment and nodded his approval before administering another dose of medication to the IV tubing.

"Driveway, coming up!" Trowa called back.

Once again, just enough warning for Heero to bounce uncomfortably along as the rig turned sharply and shuddered over the bump of the ER drive. The pounding thunder within him continued to guide his hands, keeping him focused on the still heart below his clenched fists. As the ambulance rolled to a stop and Trowa hopped out, Heero forced his heartbeat into the unresponsive man, pouring it out through his arms and hands.

The gurney shifted below him as Quatre and Trowa pulled it out of the end of the rig, pausing long enough so that Heero and Zechs could follow and then take their spots again. Zechs kept his spot at the head, preceding the gurney as Trowa turned it to head for the doors into the ER. Heero hopped onto the side, actually riding on the bar running along the side for just that purpose, his big fire boots tipped forward as he kept himself balanced as the two paramedics rolled everyone into the ER.

Dimly, around him Heero saw doctors and nurses following or preceding them, getting information from Quatre, but the Japanese firefighter paid them little attention. His whole world had narrowed down into pouring his pulse into the inert body he was almost sprawled across.

Suddenly they stopped in a treatment room, and a nurse was gently urging him down off the gurney and worming her way in to take his spot. With a shake of his head, Heero quickly disengaged and backed off out of the way. The patient vanished in the swarm of nurses and doctors, and the two firefighters were summarily ushered from the room. Quatre and Trowa appeared beside them a few moments later.

"It's in their hands now," Quatre said philosophically as he stripped off his latex gloves and deposited them in the red-bagged biohazardous waste can, "Good compressions on that CPR, Heero."

"Hn," the Japanese man grunted, pulling off his own gloves and turning to toss them in the same can Quatre had used.

As the lid dropped back down on the waste can with a dull clatter, Heero glanced up absently, scanning the hall. He felt his stomach flip in his abdomen, and a growl burble in his throat as a pair of cornflower blue eyes stared at him widely from down the hall. Relena sat in a wheelchair, clutching her flowered gown over her heart with one hand while the other held the white hospital blanket firmly over her lap. She stared at them with amazement as they sorted themselves out, and from the expression on her face, he could only assume she'd seen them come in as well. She flipped her wheat blond hair over her shoulder and met his gaze, adoration shining plainly in her expression.

"Sucks to be you," Zechs murmured into his ear from behind, "I think she likes you."

Heero ripped his gaze away from her to spin and glare at his Captain before stomping over to wash and sanitize his hands, cleaning away the scent of sweat, latex, blood and vomit.

"I'm not required to like her back," Heero hissed back, a triumphant gleam in his cobalt eyes.

Zechs smiled sagely as he moved up to the sink to wash his hands after Heero was finished.

"Neither am I," the blond replied with a wry smile of his own.

"You know, Heero," Quatre said, cocking his head slightly to one side as he considered the Japanese firefighter for a long moment, "I'd be careful if I were you. You're kinda cute when you're pissed off."

Trowa lightly cuffed his partner from behind, his emerald eyes sparkling with mirth, but his expression even.

The corner of Heero's eye twitched dangerously. Without warning, he spun on his heel, the rubber of his fire boots squeaking on the linoleum floor disco rdianately, and stomped away.

"I'll be outside waiting for Maxwell and the rig."

Quatre started giggling into the back of his hand while Trowa shook his head and sighed at his shorter partner.

"Happy now? I'm stuck with that for the rest of the day," Zechs complained.

"Yes. Quite. That was fun! She sure gets him riled up, doesn't she?" Quatre replied happily.

"If you don't behave, I'll send Dorothy some flowers and sign your name to the card," Trowa warned.

Quatre blanched to the color of fresh linen.

"You wouldn't," he whispered weakly.

"I would."

"Who's Dorothy?" Zechs asked.

Trowa indulged in a tiny smirk before turning to answer Engine 8's Captain.

"Quatre's stalker. A woman we brought in to the hospital a couple of months ago that..." Trowa coughed delicately, "Apparently took quite a shining to him."

"Yeah, well… Just remember that you live with me. If she shows up on our doorstep, you have to put up with her too!"

"I can always go stay with Cathy," Trowa replied smugly.

"I hate you," his partner whimpered.

"I doubt that," both Zechs and Trowa replied in unison before striding away in Heero's wake.

* * *

A tiny blot of pavement darkened with the bead of sweat that tumbled from Heero's brow. Absently, he ran one hand up through his bangs, brushing the messy brown hair out of his eyes for a moment, not even caring that it did no good. He concentrated on the evaporating spot of moisture on the concrete, watching it shrink into nothing, fading away in the late morning air. Shifting slightly on the curb, he leaned a little bit further over his knees as he sat waiting for Duo to arrive with Engine 8. The scent of car exhaust ticked his nose as people drove slowly past, some dropping off patients, others picking people up. Around him, the whole world continued on, oblivious to the confusion and deep sullen anger burning within his chest.

Just the sight of that worshipful stare had kindled the quiet anger within him, and Quatre's teasing has only stoked the flames. He let his breath out in a massive sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat as his hands slipped to dangle between his legs. The pavement felt rough under his fingertips, distracting him from discomforting thoughts of infatuated spoiled rich girls.

The scuffed yellow toes of another pair of fire boots entered his field of vision, turning as a figure dropped to a boneless sprawl on the curb beside him. All thoughts of the strange blue-eyed girl still waiting in the ER fled him, and the world seemed to settle into focus again.

"Where's the rig?" he asked quietly, still staring down at his fingertips wandering over the concrete between his feet.

"Parked it down the block. Zechs still inside?" Duo replied, reclining back to lean on his elbows.

"Hn," Heero grunted in agreement.

"How's the guy?"

Heero looked up, straightening to stretch his shoulders with an audible snap or two.

"With the doctors. Haven't heard anything yet. Didn't look good though."

"Too bad. He had a nice family," Duo observed, tipping his head back to stare up into the sky for a moment, "Hey cool. There's an elephant in that cloud."

Heero cocked up one eyebrow before shaking his head and glancing around for Engine 8. He frowned as he spotted the firetruck half a block away, a strange man dressed in blue jeans and a black jacket leaning on the front bumper. Heero's brow furrowed as the man lowered his mirrored sunglasses with a single gloved finger, meeting the Japanese man's cobalt stare with an intense brown glare of his own. Seemingly from thin air, the man produced a single flower, a bright orange tiger lily, and set it upon the front bumper of the rig. He smiled darkly as he reached into his jacket and withdrew a black baseball cap, rolling the bill slightly before putting it on. Even from the distance, Heero still made out the gold lion's head insignia emblazoned on the front of the cap. Heero felt his hands tighten into fists and his whole body stiffen as he fought the urge to leap to his feet and run the Oz assassin down.

"Look! A puppy!" Duo laughed, pointing into the sky excitedly.

Heero's gaze darted over to the braided driver for a split second, distracted by the exuberance of the exclamation. As his cobalt glare swept back over the rig and the rest of the block, he felt a growl bubble up from his throat.

The assassin was gone.

"Well, you boys ready to head home?" Zechs asked, materializing beside them both.

Heero throttled back his instinctive fight or flight response as his Captain startled him, covering it by rolling to his feet.

"Sounds good to me. It's getting close to lunch time and I'm getting hungry," Duo replied, bouncing up to follow as Heero stalked off towards the engine.

"Duo, when aren't you hungry?" Quatre asked.

"Ummm…."

"Point. Set. Match," Trowa observed wryly.

Duo thumbed his nose at them both and then bounced ahead, skipping the last few steps to Engine 8 and beating Heero there by a second. He paused as he noticed the flower sitting on the bumper, snatching it up and examining it curiously before Heero could stop him.

"Cool. Someone left us a thank you," Duo said with a grin and he displayed it to everyone with a flourish.

"Pretty!" Quatre said, admiring the fresh bloom.

"Yeah. I love these things. I have a bunch of lilies just like this in my front yard."

Heero's blood ran to ice as the words left Duo's mouth.

Before he could respond, their radios all squawked, the dispatcher's voice cutting off all other trains of thoughts as Engine 8 received its third call of the day.

* * *

"Man! What a day so far!" Duo exclaimed, throwing himself down into the blue recliner with a crash, "Hey, Heero, toss me a soda, will ya? I'm dyin' to get something in my stomach before it devours my spine."

Heero quirked up an eyebrow as Duo's stomach chose that moment to growl loudly enough to be heard across the kitchen where the other firefighter was rummaging through the fridge for a quick sandwich. A green and silver can of Mountain Dew arched gracefully through the air, unerringly headed for the braided driver. The thought of a caffeinated Duo was unsettling to say the least, however, Heero suspected that the braided man would need the boost if their pace remained as busy as it had been so far that day. It was 3 PM already, and this was the first time they'd actually made it back to the firehouse since the hotel fire first thing that morning.

Zechs ghosted up behind him and reached over his shoulder for a soda of his own before returning to the table and dropping into one of the chairs there.

"Looks like today was our day," the Captain observed dryly as he popped open the can and drained half of it in a single long draught.

"Well, I know this stuff goes in cycles, and it comes and it goes… but Man! It's been coming in force today! How many calls so far? Six?"

"Seven," Heero corrected absently, backing out of the fridge with an orange and a pint of milk.

"All we need now is another fi-," Duo sighed, shaking his head.

"Don't even say it, Duo!" Zechs interrupted, "If you jinx us, I swear I-"

He was interrupted when the speaker popped loudly.

"Shit."

"Yeah, thanks Duo."

"General Alarm, report of a structure fire…"

Duo grinned as he bounced to his feet, "We may get out of this yet… Might not be in our section…"

"… Section 7 b. General alarm, report of…"

Zechs turned and tossed his driver a sardonic look, while Heero paused long enough to slam back the milk he'd gotten out.

"You were saying, Duo? If I remember correctly, we're third in on that," the Captain observed, already sprinting for the bay.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah… So suddenly it's all *my* fault."

"Talk less, move more," Heero called, having already passed Duo by the map on his way to jump into his bunkers.

"Fine then, you're navigating, fire boy," Duo taunted back, having found his directions from the map before he followed them into the bay.

"Left off the ramp, south eight blocks, turn right, west five blocks, turn left, south another seven blocks, turn left. On that block," Heero said as he fastened his bunker coat closed and jumped up into the rig.

"Blow me, Yuy," Duo snapped, shrugging on his own coat and hopping up into the driver's seat.

"Name the time and place, Maxwell," Heero mocked back as the rig rumbled to life and then rolled out the door.

Zechs had to curb his impulse to laugh as Duo choked for a moment in surprise, before muttering softly enough that Zechs was sure Heero would have missed it, "Yeah. Right. Like I could *be* that lucky."

* * *

"To your left, Heero!" Zechs called over the muffle of his mask and the hiss of the water.

Heero nodded and turned, opening the nozzle of the hose in his hands to catch the patch of flames climbing up the wall beside him. Satisfied that they were no longer a threat, he turned back to the front and continued raining the narrow angle fog pattern onto the glowing red remains of the trailer floor. As he shifted his weight forward a little to get a better angle on his target, he felt the part of the floor he was standing on bounce ominously. It was getting very spongy, and not as firm as he'd like. Just as he was turning his head to warn his Captain, the heel of his boot broke through the thin plywood and carpet. The weakened floor couldn't hold him up as he shifted position to avoid falling.

Zechs turned to check on Heero just in time to see the Japanese firefighter flail slightly backwards before dropping through a new hole in the floor like a ton of bricks. The hose bucked and whipped around wildly as Heero vanished from sight, having lost control of the nozzle when he pitched backwards. Zechs spared part of his attention for the radio, barking out calm orders for everyone to evacuate the trailer since it had lost too much structural integrity. Part of his attention remained on the hole where Heero had vanished, watching for a flare up of fire or perhaps part of his firefighter to reappear. The rest of his attention was on the hose, diving for it to both get some more water on the fire across the room, and to control what had suddenly become a potentially deadly weapon.

His fingers wrapped around the canvas-jacketed hose, pulling it tight up against his body while he slowly backed towards the door again. By the time he cleared the doorframe and retreated to the tiny porch of the trailer, he had the nozzle under control, and firm footing once more guaranteed.

Another firefighter appeared beside him, taking the hose from his hands to redirect the stream of water to a sudden flare up at the other end of the structure. Zechs passed it off gratefully, hopping down off the porch to jog to a spot about halfway down the length of the trailer where Duo was busy yanking off the plastic and aluminum skirting. He knelt down and joined his driver, pulling the panels off and tossing them into the growing pile of debris in the middle of the yard. When they had about a six foot length removed, a gloved hand ghosted out of the darkness of the crawl space under the trailer.

Zechs and Duo both reached down, seizing on to Heero's hand and hauling backwards, pulling the fallen firefighter out from under the trailer with a massive heave. Heero tumbled to a sodden pile at their knees, flailing slightly to get his bearings back. Behind them, the Battalion Chief suddenly started laughing. It started out as a small chuckle, almost inaudible over the crackle and rush of the fire, but quickly grew into a loud guffaw, joined by the Safety Officer, and the Captain of Engine 7, who'd been talking to the Battalion Chief. Zechs shook his head as Duo's voice joined the racket, the braided driver rocking back on his haunches and snickering with one finger pointing down at Heero, who was still sprawled on the muddy ground in front of them.

Zechs peered down, pausing long enough to lift his helmet enough to yank off his fogged up SCBA mask. He had to bite his lower lip to keep from joining in.

Heero was only then picking himself up off the ground, gloves scrubbing futilely to rid his fogged mask of its thick layer of clinging reddish mud. Almost every inch of him, from the top of his bright yellow helmet, to the tips of his black rubber fire boots, was covered in a blanket of rust colored wet soil. His gloved were so encrusted, that they looked like nothing more than soggy boxing gloves, all bulky and blocky with no fingers.

It was obvious from the way he was moving that he was unhurt, save for perhaps his pride, despite the unexpected trip through the floor to the crawl space under the structure.

"Heero, man…" Duo gasped between chuckles, "You may… ya know… wanna spray off your gear… before we head back. You're filthy, man…"

With a savage jerk, Heero shook most of the mud from his gloves, and then reached up to tip his helmet back and yank off his mask so he could see. The glare he graced Duo with would have frozen Hades in August, although, Duo was so busy laughing at the plops of mud dripping from the brim of Heero's helmet, that he didn't even notice.

"Blow me, Maxwell."

Duo snickered, turning to return to his abandoned rig and the unattended pump panel there.

"Name the time and place, Yuy," he taunted back, parroting Heero's earlier joke.

Heero's whole body slumped slightly as he glanced down at himself and then back up at Duo's retreating form.

"I should be so lucky…" Zechs heard Heero mutter.

That was the last straw. He burst into laughter as he turned and walked away, shaking his head.

Heero watched his Captain retreat for a moment before his face flushed beet red and a harsh curse exploded from his lips. He turned on a heel and stomped away, determined to take out his frustrations on what was left of the fire.

* * *

"Quatre! I see you're on duty today," Dr. Browning called as he turned a corner in the ER and saw the blond paramedic carefully wiping down Medic 6's gurney.

"Dr. Browning! Yes! It's been a busy day already. Trowa's just resupplying the ambulance now. When I get done here, we're going to run up to the maternity ward and check on Sara Kate."

"Sara Kate? She's the little girl they C-sectioned after her mother was in that awful wreck some time ago, isn't she?"

"Yes. The one where her father intentionally tried to kill them all. He died here at the hospital, didn't he?" Quatre asked, spreading fresh sheets over the gurney and folding the safety buckles across the top.

"In the fire, yes. The arson investigator said it was murder," Dr. Browning replied, shaking his head as he watched Quatre deftly prep the gurney for its next run.

"That's terrible!"

"Yes, indeed… Ah, there you are Trowa! It's been a while, lad."

"Dr. Browning," the taller paramedic greeted politely as he walked up behind Quatre with a small pink teddy bear in his hand.

"Ready?" Quatre asked, smiling as he caught sight of the toy.

Trowa nodded in reply and then handed Quatre the bear to hold while he took the gurney back out to Medic 6 quickly.

"Well, it was good to see you, young man. Give Sara Kate a squeeze for me when you go see her, okay? And don't forget to eat some lunch today. You look like you've been running all morning and afternoon already!" Dr. Brown admonished.

"We have," Quatre replied with a cheerful chuckle, "We will. I promise. Hopefully we'll have a quiet night and we won't see you again today, sir. I' d better go catch up to Trowa before he heads up without me."

"Very good. All right then. Have a good day, Quatre. And get some sleep tonight!"

"We'll try!" Quatre called, turning to wave as he jogged off towards the elevators.

Trowa was waiting for him by the time he got there, leaning casually against the wall with a pleasantly neutral expression hiding behind his shock of auburn hair. The elevator door dinged and whooshed open as Quatre stepped up, and the two paramedics hopped into the car and rode it to the floor with the maternity ward.

"Gift shop?" Quatre asked, holding out the bear.

"Had it in the rig for a week now. Just haven't had a chance to stop by," Trowa replied, shifting to lean slightly against his partner.

As the door dinged and whooshed open again, the faint scent of powder, lotion, and the unmistakable odor of neonates wafted into the car. Quatre bounced through the doors with a cheerful smile, unerringly navigating the hallways to the maternity nurses' station. He smiled politely to the familiar nurse working behind the counter, while Trowa followed in his wake.

"Hello, Jenn. How are you today?" he asked her.

The blond nurse glanced up at him from her paperwork with red-rimmed eyes and a hitch in her voice.

"Oh, Quatre… I'm so sorry…" she sniffled, shaking her head sadly, "Sara Kate passed away this morning."

The blond paramedic's smile faltered, and then died on his lips. He looked down at his toes as tears sprang to his eyes. Trowa dropped a comforting hand on Quatre's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry, Jenn," Quatre said, looking back up, unashamed of the moisture leaking down his cheeks, "I know how much you were all pulling for her."

The nurse grabbed up a kleenex and blew her nose noisily.

"She was just too young, Quatre," Jenn said sadly.

Quatre nodded before he set the small stuffed bear on the counter and then turned away, heading back for the elevator.

"They usually are," he observed quietly before leaving the maternity ward behind.

* * *

"Now, this time, Duo, keep your mouth shut about needing any more calls," Zechs ordered as Duo backed Engine 8 back into the bay.

"Yessir," Duo replied, feigning sheepish agreement as he shifted the rig into neutral, set the parking brake, and then hit the engine kill switch.

Heero walked through the bay door and scowled up at the braided driver as he hopped down from the seat.

"Don't jinx us, Maxwell," Heero warned as his soggy bunker pants dripped on the bay floor.

"Man! Getting it from both sides here!" Duo exclaimed, shaking his head as he plugged the rig into the battery charger.

"How… kinky," Zechs observed dryly from the other side of the engine where he was shucking out of his own soggy gear.

Heero jerked, a sound suspiciously like a choked laugh coming from his general vicinity as he peeled his gear from his damp uniform.

"Something to add there, Heero?" Duo asked, his voice dripping with honeyed venom.

"Nothing at all, Maxwell… Nothing at-"

"Aid call for Engine 8," the speaker in the bay squawked loudly, interrupting the banter.

"FUCK! I'm HUNGRY! I'm NEVER gonna get lunch at this rate!" Duo wailed, pulling his bunkers back up and slipping the suspenders back on his shoulders.

"Dinner," Heero corrected absently as he listened for the details.

"Engine 8 respond to Evergreen Plaza Apartments, 2301 South Tiberion Street, for a possible drowning."

Three doors slammed shut in unison as Engine 8 roared to life again. The lights flipped on, the siren wailed, and Engine 8 erupted from the station like a charging bull.

* * *

Even before the truck had rolled to a stop, Heero had his door flung open and was hopping out, the medical bag in one hand, and a backboard gripped tightly in the other. He was swarmed immediately by a dozen panicking adults and children, all pointing off towards the back of the building there the pool was, and every one of them screaming to be heard over the others. He pushed past the mob, ignoring everything but their pointing fingers for the moment, while Duo hopped out behind him and dashed to a compartment to grab a bag of utility rope. With a shrill whistle, Zechs grabbed all the bystanders' attention, clearing the way a little for Heero and Duo to dash off to the pool.

As soon as they entered the fenced enclosure, Heero could see the blurry form of a human body at the bottom of the pool. He dropped the medical bag and the backboard, shucking out of his soaked bunkers as he stumbled forward. Duo pressed the end of the rope from the bag he was holding into Heero's outstretched hand. With a graceful arch, Heero dove into the pool, his socked feet kicking him unerringly towards the bottom and the waiting victim.

The chlorinated water burned his eyes and blurred his vision as his seeking hands finally made contact with the fully clothed man lying on the concrete bottom of the pool. He paused long enough to wrap the rope around the body and tie it off quickly before kicking to the surface, following the rope back up. As he came up, Duo started hauling on the rope, Heero helping until the body floated up where Heero could get a grip on him again.

Trowa and Quatre materialized beside Duo, kneeling down to help Heero heave the cold form out of the water and onto the deck surrounding the pool. As soon as the victim left his hands, Heero hauled himself out of the water, not even pausing to shake the excess off as he stepped over to help the paramedics and Duo.

The unresponsive man was quickly rolled onto the backboard Heero had brought, and just as quickly the backboard was lifted onto the gurney waiting nearby. Buckles and straps were efficiently applied, securing the patient for transport, and then Trowa and Quatre were quickly wheeling the gurney to the waiting ambulance.

"Duo, Heero, come with us. We'll need you for the ride in," Trowa said.

Zechs appeared beside the back of the ambulance, pulling the doors open just as the two paramedics and two firefighters arrived.

"I'll take the rig. Meet you at the hospital," Zechs said, nodding at Heero and Duo to hop up into the loaded ambulance.

"Got it. See ya in a few," Duo replied.

Heero nodded as he hopped up into the ambulance and the doors slammed shut behind him.

* * *

"Nice socks," Duo snickered as they waited in the hallway outside the ER room where they'd just dropped off their patient.

Heero frowned and glanced down, only then realizing that since he'd hopped out of his bunker pants and fire boots back at the pool, he was in his stocking feet. His very wet stocking feet. It matched the rest of his very wet, and still dripping, uniform. He sighed tiredly and refused to rise to the bait.

"Hey… look at it this way. At least She isn't down here any more," Duo said, slapping Heero on the back with one hand as he motioned around the hall with his other.

The sigh Heero heaved then was one of almost comic relief.

"Come on. Let's go wait for Zechs outside. You're dripping all over the nice ER people's floor," Duo said, snickering again.

"Don't make me hurt you, Duo," Heero grunted dangerously as he trudged off carefully behind the bouncing driver.

"Promises, promises!" Duo sang cheerfully over his shoulder.

"That's it. You can starve tonight," Heero retorted, passing through the automatic doors into the early evening air outside.

"Ouch! Cruel, man. Totally cruel!"

Heero snorted in answer, moving up to stand beside Duo on the curb. By unspoken accord, they both settled to a seat on the edge of the sidewalk, watching the cars drifts slowly past in companionable silence.

"Zechs musta got caught in traffic," Duo mused several minutes later, "Figured he wouldda been here by now."

"Hn. Maybe he decided to drive like a sane human being," Heero replied wryly, the unspoken implication hanging quite obviously between them.

"Ouch! Nailed me again. Man, you're just full of 'em today, aren't ya? What' s gotten into you lately?" the braided driver asked with a grin.

"You were the one bitching about me being cold," Heero shot back.

One chestnut eyebrow quirked up in amusement.

"True. Just never seen the ole Maxwell Charm work quite so quickly or effectively before."

Heero snorted again, "More like the Maxwell Cancer."

"Hey, whatever works," Duo agreed cheerfully, "I told you I like a challenge."

Heero simply shook his head before lapsing back into silence again. Grinning like a fiend, Duo leaned back on his elbows and stared at the rose colored sky.

"Hm… Hot fudge sundae," he murmured after a moment.

"Huh?"

"There," Duo said, pointing up at a fluffy, lopsided cloud, "It looks like a hot fudge sundae. And that one there looks like a slab of bar-b-que ribs. And those airplane trails look like pixie sticks."

Heero frowned, following Duo's direction to peer up at the clouds, faintly edged in crimson from the sun settling towards the horizon.

"This morning it was animals… Now it's food," Heero said.

"Hey, I'm a hungry boy," Duo replied defensively, "I missed my morning and afternoon snacks, not to mention lunch!"

"Hn."

Before Duo could fire off a retort to Heero's non-reactive grunt, the familiar bulk of Engine 8 turned the corner down the street and rolled to a careful stop at the curb in front of them.

"You boys need a ride?" Zechs called dryly.

Duo bounced to his feet, grabbing the shoulder of Heero's shirt and dragging him up too.

"Hot damn! Can we go eat now?! Before another catastrophe hits and leaves me nothing more than a withered little skeleton?" Duo whined, opening the door and hopping up into the Captain's seat since Zechs was driving.

Heero snorted as he carefully climbed into the seat behind Duo, glancing over to the other seat and nodding satisfactorily as he spotted his bunker pants and fire boots.

"I figured you'd be whining about that by now. Here," Zechs said, tossing a white cardboard box and a pair of chopsticks at Duo. Another carton arched over the engine mount towards Heero, followed by a second set of chopsticks. "I hit the Chinese place on the way over here. And Engines 7, 9, and 12 are covering our district until we can get back to the station and Heero can change into a clean, dry uniform."

"That's why they pay you the big bucks. Oh yeah! General Tsao's Chicken!" Duo crowed happily as he tore into the box and started quickly devouring the contents, "Remind me to call all those guys up and thank em for this."

Zechs shook his head and laughed as he pulled the rig back onto the street and pointed it towards Station 8.

"Don't thank them just yet. I had to trade 12's next alarm for this break."

"Good thing 12's usually so dead after dark," Duo replied around a mouthful of chicken.

"Well, they would have been until you said something, Maxwell. Haven't you learned your lesson yet tonight?" Heero sighed.

"Man! Why is it all my fault all'a the sudden?"

"Must be that 'ole Maxwell Charm'," Heero retorted as he popped open his carton of Shrimp in Garlic Sauce.

"Blow me, Yuy."

Heero snapped his mouth closed on his retort when Zechs snorted with amusement. Feeling the faint flush creep across his cheeks at his earlier slip at the fire, Heero returned his attention to his dinner, and the rest of the trip back to Station 8 was accomplished in silence.

* * *

~TBC~

[1] Ambu bag - football shaped appliance used to help or make a person breathe. One end is connected either to a tube that's stuck down the throat, or a mask that fits tightly over the face, the other end is a bellows valve. You squeeze the bag, air is forced through the tube or mask into the lungs. Let the bag reinflate through the valve, and then squeeze again.

[2] Drug Box - Think big plastic tackle box... only, instead of fishing tackle, it's filled with all sorts of fun drug type things that medics can use on people... Morphine is your friend... *snicker* Seriously, since most of the drugs Paramedics carry are regulated substances, all the drugs have to be stored in a hard sided (read heavy plastic or metal) container capable of being locked. There is a numbered seal placed on the box after each time it is opened, and all drugs must be accounted for after every call.


	19. Chapter 18

His eyes narrowed dangerously as the article caught his eye. There it was in stark black and white. Crammed between the lengthy and verbose obituaries of a pair of elderly gentlemen, her tiny little paragraph seemed like an insulting afterthought to her short life.

Forgotten again, it seemed. Always it was the children who were forgotten. Just a name, a date, and a note about being survived by her mother. That was it. Three short little lines.

Nothing about the way her blue eyes had sparkled so beautifully when she'd been awake and lucid enough, despite the life support machines sustaining her, to notice the toys almost overflowing from her bassinet in the pediatric ICU. Nothing about how hard she'd fought for that first, abortive, desperate breath of air when she'd been pulled so prematurely from the Jezebel whose womb had nurtured her. Nothing about how the thin little wisps of her strawberry blond hair had curled so endearingly around her right temple, while the rest of it seemed to want to stick out in every other direction away from her head. Nothing about the sad joy that had filled his heart as he peered down at her through the window, or the quiet happiness she inspired in everyone who'd cared for her as she struggled for the chance to grow up healthy. Struggled for the chance to grow at all.

Nothing about how her chance at life had been stolen from her by that regrettable piece of human refuse that had sired her.

Just three short lines. Name. Date. Survived by...

Not for long. No. Not for long. He would bring the cleansing fire of Revelation to her. The harlot would pay for thieving the innocence from the bright-souled child.

Cinders and ash. Sackcloth and fire. Purification of filth.

Oh yes. He would ensure the little one would be revenged.

Even if he had to burn the whole world down to make certain.

* * *

"Feel better?" Duo asked Heero as he walked out of the bunkroom fastening the last couple of buttons on his clean, dry uniform shirt.

"Dry at least," Heero replied, nodding to Quatre and Trowa sitting at the table, pouring over the newspaper together.

"Not that it's going to matter much," Zechs replied with a sardonic snort as he hung up the phone, "Nichols just called from Engine 12. They have an automatic alarm going off over at Sander's Construction on Whitefield Road. Time to pay up on that favor we owe them."

Heero nodded sharply, turning to jog out to the bay and his waiting bunker gear, which was still damp from the last few calls. Duo dashed past him as he paused by his door to hop into his boots.

"Seems such a waste of a clean shirt," he joked, turning to hop into his own boots.

Without missing a beat, Heero's fingers flew, unbuttoning the uniform shirt and shrugging out of it before dragging his bunker suspenders up over his shoulders.

"Fine then. I won't waste it," Heero replied, throwing the shirt at Duo and smirking when it settled over the braided driver's head like a blanket.

Duo jumped, hands scrabbling at the cool, dark cotton that had appeared seemingly out of thin air. He paused, turning to glance back at Heero in confusion as he realized what the fabric was. The retort sitting on his tongue sputtered and died before he could utter it as he watched the tight navy T-shirt that everyone wore under their uniforms bunch and flex across Heero's defined chest as he slung on his rig coat and helmet.

"Shall I drive us to this one, Maxwell?" Zechs questioned wryly when he noticed Duo merely standing beside the driver's side door to Engine 8, with a pole-axed expression on his face.

Duo jumped again, dropping the shirt on the floor with a guilty start as he glanced up at his amused Captain. "I... Uh-... Whitefield Road?" he asked, swallowing hard as he scrambled into his seat.

"Sander's Construction. Whitefield Road," Zechs agreed mildly as he reached over and flipped on the lights, "And Heero? Would you mind not distracting our driver by stripping around him when we're on a call?"

The slamming of Duo's door drowned out Heero's embarrassed cough of agreement.

* * *

Despite their delayed start, the quicker, more agile Engine beat Truck 2 to the scene by a full minute. The seventy-foot long firetruck rolled to a stop outside the construction warehouse a few moments before Zechs discovered that the alarm was malfunctioning and that there was no fire.

Heero trudged back down the corridor, warily glancing from side to side at the story-high stacks of two by fours and drywall waiting to be shipped out on upcoming projects. Duo suddenly appeared at his side, ghosting out of another adjoining corridor.

"All clear down that way. You?" he asked, hefting the axe he was carrying onto his shoulder in classic lumberjack style.

"Hn," Heero agreed with a nod.

"Just a false alarm then. Got off easy," Duo commented.

"I'd heard that about you," the Japanese firefighter commented dryly, a smirk twisting his lips.

Duo stopped dead in his tracks for a moment, an incredulous expression playing across his face as his partner continued blithely down the corridor as if nothing had happened. After a moment, Duo shook his head and jogged to catch up, muttering, "Well, I'll be damned... it wasn't a fluke."

* * *

All three doors slammed shut almost in unison as they climbed back into Engine 8 once the fire alarm system had been reset. Zechs pulled off his helmet and unsnapped his coat while Duo's hands flew over the dashboard, flipping switches and pressing buttons until the huge diesel engine rumbled to life. In the back, Heero had already stripped off his coat and helmet, and was pulling the yellow nomex hood off of his head when the rig lurched forward, pulling away from the lumberyard.

"Who's up for ice cream? There's a Baskin Robbins on the way back to quarters," Duo observed hopefully.

"Are you buying?" Zechs asked, tossing Duo a sardonic look as he set his helmet on its hook by the dash.

"Actually, isn't it a union by-law that the lowest ranking member of a crew buys ice cream?" Duo asked with a patently innocent grin.

"Isn't it a union by-law that the Driver/Engineers pass a psyche review to get their licenses?" Heero countered swiftly.

"Touché!" the braided firefighter retorted. "I see now. You don't love me anymore."

"I never loved you to begin with, Maxwell," Heero replied archly as he settled against the SCBA cradle in his seat.

Since the cab was designed so that he would be facing backwards, he never saw the swift look of hurt or flash of regret passing over Duo's features before the driver replied, "Yeah, well you've got lousy taste."

"That's not what my last significant other said," the Japanese firefighter lied absently, wondering why his earlier comment was making his chest ache dully.

"I pity anyone who'd date you, Yuy," Duo muttered dryly. "It'd be like dating a rock. Only not as fun."

Zechs listened to the exchange, lifting a hand to his face to hide the smile that had crept onto his face. 'Wufei was right. It's like watching grade schoolers flirt. Maybe I'll sleep out in the living room tonight. Where it's bound to be safer. Oh, Chang... If only you could see this. You'd laugh for days,' he thought with amusement.

"You want ice cream or not, bakayaro?" Heero snapped, crossing his arms over his chest sullenly. Why should he care about what that braided fool thought about his date-ability?

"Does that mean you're actually paying?" Duo sang back sweetly.

The only response Duo got was a crumpled ten dollar bill flying over his head from behind to land in his lap, and an indistinct growl from Heero, who'd been sitting right behind him.

"Kickass! Double Mocha Fudge with Espresso Chips, here I come!"

Zechs sighed, shaking his head. 'Who am I kidding? Sleeping in the next *county* won't be safe after that concoction... never mind the next room.'

* * *

Heero stared down through the slightly fogged glass with a slightly dazed look in his eyes, and a vague feeling of dread. There were more than 31 flavors here, surely. Who'd have thought that a simple sugary treat would be so complicated?

He spared a quick glance over at Duo, who was eagerly accepting a waffle cone with some sort of very dark brown ice cream piled on top. The braided driver caught the quick glance and turned to salute Heero with his treat, tossing the other firefighter a wink before nibbling in a very un-Duo-like fashion at one of the many white and tan specks scattered throughout his ice cream. After receiving his change, he wandered over to where Heero was still staring down into the case.

"Rocky Road: nectar of the gods," he intoned gravely before taking a long lick around the top of the cone.

Heero frowned for a moment, "I thought you were getting Double Mocha Fudge Espresso chip?"

"I'm not allowed coffee anymore, remember?" Duo replied before licking a dribble of melting ice cream from his hand. "Made up your mind yet?"

Heero blinked before turning back to the case and shoving his hands into the pockets on his bunker pants. "You distracted me," he muttered.

Duo's eyes widened as he took in the slow flush of faint color rising in Heero's cheeks, and the slightly sullen pout crossing his friend's lips. He turned and looked down into the case with Heero while the proverbial hamster in his brain did wind sprints on its wheel.

"You've never had ice cream before," he guessed evenly before darting a glance up at Heero. The deepening of the color and matching scowl confirmed it. Tilting his hand, he offered his own cone to Heero. "Here. Try this," he offered with no trace of his usual acerbic teasing. "It's good. I think you'll like it."

Prussian blue eyes locked warily onto his own as Heero glanced up at him. Leaning forward, Heero carefully swiped his tongue across the slowly melting mess perched atop Duo's waffle cone, his eyes never leaving those of the braided driver's. A look of surprise flashed across his face.

"It's... good," Heero admitted with amazement.

Duo smiled and quickly ordered a second double scoop Rocky Road waffle cone, handing over the change from Heero's ten.

"I'll turn you into a real human being yet, Heero Yuy," Duo called as he sauntered out the door back towards Engine 8.

Heero's shoulders sagged in defeat as he turned back to wait for his order. "That's what I'm afraid of," he muttered to himself.

By the time he made it back out to the rig, Duo was busy showing it off to a pair of young boys and a girl while their parents watched indulgently from a picnic table outside the parlor's front door. Captain Zechs was leaning against one of the open compartment doors, while Duo busily explained the difference between different kinds of extinguishers, and quizzed the children on fire safety. Heero chewed thoughtfully on a marshmallow as he walked over to stand next to Zechs.

"He's good with the kids," the blonde captain observed quietly.

Heero agreed with a silent nod as he watched Duo give the girl a high five for answering a question correctly. Heero opened his mouth to say something, only to be drowned out by the radio's loud squawk. Three firefighters turned in unison, passing off their ice cream cones to the three children, even before the radio had started giving them the specifics of their call. The children's parents jumped forward, pulling them out of the way as Heero threw open his door and reached for the rest of his gear.

"General Alarm, section 8B. Possible structure fire at 4132 Bobcat Manor Lane..."

Heero tuned out the repetition of the call as his gaze unerringly shot over to the southwest horizon. His heart flipped in his chest when he thought he caught a faint haze of smoke rising in the distance. The rig roared to life as he hopped into his seat, shrugging on the straps of his air tank.

"That's the first road left in Panther Prairie Golf Estates, isn't it?" Duo called, toggling on the lights with one hand while disengaging the parking brake with the other.

Zechs shouted an affirmative as he flipped on the siren.

The rig lurched forward, engine rumbling as Duo pressed the accelerator to the floor. A sharp curse burst from Duo's lips as Engine 8 exploded onto the street in a flurry of flashing lights and screaming sirens.

"Tell me that's not smoke I see over the trees out that way," he demanded as he skillfully maneuvered his way through traffic.

Zechs cinched down the last strap on his SCBA and snapped the chinstrap of his helmet in place. He looked towards where Duo was pointing and scowled fiercely as he growled, "I think you're out of luck, Duo."

Heero leaned forward sharply, jerking his SCBA out of its cradle in his seat so he could turn around and peer out the front windshield. As Engine 8 came over a rise in the road, the plume of smoke resolved itself more clearly against the dark evening sky. Faint grey and white swirled in a maelstrom with charred black gouts of choking acrid soot. The edges and spume of the cloud were backlit and highlighted by a sickening scarlet glow, obvious even in the distance.

"Shit. That's not good."

Heero couldn't help but to agree with the braided driver.

By the time they were only two blocks out from the idyllic golf course and it's collection of half-million and million dollar homes, the plume of smoke stretched to the horizon, and sheets of crimson and gold flames could be seen racing towards the sky over the tops of other homes. Zechs had already called for additional companies, while Heero had already looked up the location of the nearest hydrant for Duo in the water book they carried in the rig.

Tires screamed in mortal agony as Duo whipped the big Engine around the corner into the Estates, slamming the accelerator to the floor again, weaving in and out of cars that were already lining the street to watch the spectacle. Heero braced himself as Duo slid the rig around the corner onto Bobcat and raced to the end of the cull de sac where the huge, three story, million dollar plus valued mansion cried out it's death knell in a roar of flames.

The shake shingle roof puffed and shuddered under the pressure of the smoke and heat pressing upwards against it, while the last surviving window on the front gave up its struggle and exploded outwards in a shower of sooty purple glass. Swirling serpents of golden and scarlet flame burst, snarling, from every window and the open or missing front door, as the beast within the doomed house sought release. The stone façade cracked and groaned precariously, chunks of it exploding outward occasionally as the intense heat expanded the stone past it's breaking point. Bushes and landscaping lining the neighboring houses smoked ominously as the sheer heat radiating from the burning home threatened to ignite everything around it. Not even the sky was safe from the firestorm, as a twisting whirlwind of flame spiraled up from a cupola into the crimson stained blanket of night.

"So much for having a quiet last 9 hours of our shift," Duo called back.

Engine 8 rocked to a stop against the curb in front of the house, narrowly missing the collection of homeowners and neighbors milling in a pitiful knot by the sidewalk. Heero threw open his door, not even flinching as a wave of intense heat washed over him.

"Get back!" he shouted to the civilians as he grabbed the bundle of two-and-a-half-inch hose and threw it over his shoulder. Without waiting to see if they obeyed, he took off at as fast a sprint as he could manage with over a hundred pounds of hose on his shoulder. Leaving a trail of the heavy hose behind him, he instinctively headed for the side of the house that was most fully engulfed in flame, and had the nearest neighbor.

Behind him, Zechs had run around and grabbed the 250 foot long bundle of inch-and-a-half hose and was laying it out towards the front of the house, closer to the opposite side as Heero was heading. In the distance, they could hear the cacophonous wail of several other firetrucks, still en route to the scene.

Engine 8 shuddered with a loud clank as Duo shifted the transmission from road to pump, sending the firetruck's engine power to the massive pump cradled mid-ship on the rig. He glanced up to his captain and firefighter, nodding as they simultaneously whirled their hands in the signal to charge their hoses. Cranking up the engine throttle, he yanked open the appropriate levers and watched with satisfaction as the two hoses bucked and twitched as they flushed full of water.

Down the block, Duo could see Truck 2 careen around the corner towards them, followed closely by Engine 12. Tuning out the approaching rigs, Duo concentr ated on monitoring the water level in 8's tank, as well as the pressure gauges.

The big hose kicked in Heero's hands as he slammed the nozzle open and spared a quick shot of water for the smoking bushes and home at his back. Satisfied that he'd cooled them down for the moment, Heero turned, clutching his hose to his side as he played the water stream through the two cherry blazing windows before him. Thick gouts of steam and smoke burst out as the intense heat within the home turned the water to steam in an instant. With a jerk of his head, he dropped his helmet visor over his eyes and face to help protect him from a little of the heat, before playing the hose stream up the side of the house to where flames burst from the attic windows and roof.

He hunched his shoulders and tucked his head down as a side attic window far above him exploded outwards, showering him with slivers and needles of shimmering glass. Behind him, someone from the newly arrived truck cursed in fluent Spanish before continuing on his way to cut the power and gas to the house.

The hose in his hands shifted as it lost a little pressure; Heero spared a glance back at the rig and nodded in satisfaction as he saw someone opening the nozzle on the 1000 gallon per minute deck gun mounted atop Engine 12. Duo was busy, hands flying over the pump panel as he regulated the pressures again, and the hose firmed up in Heero's grasp again. Duo glanced back towards the firefighter who'd taken charge of Zechs' hose, and towards Heero, asking them with a gesture if they were okay. Heero spared an instant to toss his driver back an affirmative gesture before concentrating on aiming his water stream through the tiny attic windows on the third floor to hit the scarlet ceiling within.

He shifted, struggling to control the hose as the fatigue that had been building up all day started making itself known. Despite having barely had but a few minutes between calls all day, Heero was bound and determined not to let his own body get the best of him. With a determined set to his jaw, he shifted his stance again, and continued playing the water stream over the flames still engulfing the house, ignoring the screaming protests of his muscles.

Around him, more firefighters materialized, hauling more hoses and setting up to surround the doomed home in an attempt to drown the flames by sheer water volume alone. Above him, a deep creaking rumble was the only warning he needed to shoulder a nearby firefighter out of the way of the attic window awning as it crashed to the ground not ten feet away. Without missing a beat, he doused the flames on the debris, before turning to give the bushes and home at his back another quick spray to cool them off once more. A wave of heat washed over him as he turned back, and he had to duck his head so that his visor covered his entire face to keep the burn he could feel forming on his face from getting worse. As he returned his water stream to the still blazing home, he crept forward a little, getting a better angle through the window of the first floor, ignoring the searing warmth radiating over him.

He lost track of how long he manned that hose before someone ran up and tapped him on the shoulder, offering to take over for him. Glancing back to Engine 8, he saw Zechs standing there with a cup of hopefully cool water, waving him over. With a nod, Heero shut the line down just long enough to pass it off, before retreating from the flames back to the cooler safety of the rig and a very brief rest between battles.

Three other hose lines, five new fire attacks, two hours of salvage, a half hour manning the Truck's Deluge Cannon, an hour of overhaul, and only two breaks later, Battalion Chief 2 gave them the go ahead to shut down their pump and pack up their hose.

Heero stood back and observed the wreckage of a formerly House Beautiful worthy mansion. The roof had collapsed into the first floor half an hour into the fire. The front porch had been buried under a mound of the attic. The garage, and the two cars within it, both at least $40,000 vehicles, were lost under the shapeless wreckage of the storage attic that had been overhead. Not a single possession from the first floor up had been spared the hungry maw of the flames.

The only place untouched by the fire itself was the basement, which was accessible from a pair of beautiful French doors at the rear of the home. The basement, however, was bogged down with a foot and a half of water, and the now faint haze of a choking acrid smoke. Heero and Zechs had managed to save a half dozen plastic tubs filled with family photos and keepsakes, as well as a wedding dress slated to be used in the home owner's daughter's wedding in 8 days. The youngest son of the family had beamed as Heero handed him the Playstation 2 he'd managed to salvage for the youth. Other than that, a ruined Persian rug, and a few dozen $100 bottles of wine that had probably already turned to vinegar from the heat, the entire property and everything within it, was lost.

Rather than being upset with the losses, or rather than being as upset with the losses as Heero would have expected, the family was simply happy to have escaped the blaze alive and together. He watched the family's neighbors usher them off to one of their homes for the night, as it probably would have been difficult to find a hotel still taking guests at 3 in the morning.

With a nod of satisfaction, Heero returned to helping Zechs and Duo slowly drain and repack the hundreds of feet of hose they'd used. Noting the slow, stilted movements of both his Captain and Driver, Heero jumped in and took the lion's share of the work, burning through his carefully hoarded reserves to spare Zechs and Duo a little bit of their own. Only four more hours, and then everyone would be able to rest and recuperate.

By the time they'd gotten everything cleaned, repacked and loaded, and made their way back to Station 8, that time had been whittled down to just under three and a half hours. Heero smiled as he listened to Duo drop gratefully into his bed across the bunkroom for the first time that night. The braided driver groaned softly as he yanked his blankets up over his head and almost immediately began to snore softly.

Echoing Duo's sigh of exhaustion, Heero followed the driver into sleep, praying that the night remained quiet.

* * *

Heero found himself standing beside his bed, blinking in slight confusion until the voice on the station speakers broke through the weary fog in his brain.

"... 1839 Ajax Lane. Automatic alarm for Engine 8, Truck 2, Battalion 2..."

Behind him, Heero could hear Zechs pulling his uniform pants back on, and Duo's tired groan as the driver pulled himself from bed. Confident that they were coming, Heero headed out to the big map hanging outside the office to locate their call. After a moment, Zechs joined him, followed by Duo, who simply trudged past with a grumpy scowl.

"I know where it's at. Lincoln National Bank. Screw the map," he grumbled as he yanked open the door to the rig room.

Heero nodded and turned to follow, stopping dead in his tracks as he took in the sight that greeted him. Clad in nothing more than black socks, a fire department T-shirt, and... a pair of black boxers with little Dalmatians wearing fire helmets and Dalmatian spotted hearts, Duo stomped towards Engine 8.

"Umm... Duo? Clothes?" he squeaked, trying to ignore how nicely the dark fabric clung to the braided firefighter's ass.

Duo flipped him off over his shoulder, not even faltering in his tired steps towards the rig and his gear sitting patiently by the driver's side door.

"Fuck off, Yuy. Why d'ya think they call em 'bunk'er gear, anyway?" Duo snarled as he slipped into his boots and bunker pants. "They get me half naked, or not at fuckin' all."

"Sounds like someone needs a nap," Zechs observed wryly as he pulled on his own gear. Another one fingered salute was the only answer Duo gave his captain.

Heero couldn't help but snicker slightly at the exhausted driver as he dragged his suspenders over his shoulders and pulled on his still wet coat. The slamming of Duo's door almost drowned Heero out as he called to the driver, "Only three more hours, Maxwell. Then you can drag yourself home and sleep for the next two days."

"Better hope I don't fall asleep at the wheel and kill us all before then," Duo called back as Engine 8 rumbled to life.

* * *

Heero watched the strobe of the lights flash off of the firehouse and the surrounding buildings as Duo backed Engine 8 into the bay. Rather than his usual breakneck manner, Duo was creeping with slow caution; a greater testament to his weariness than his half-naked state could ever be. Once the rig was completely out of the street, Heero followed it up to the firehouse at a slow walk, letting the car he'd stopped finally pass. He hadn't even made it to the large overhead door when the station's speaker squealed, and the dispatcher's voice advised them of a car accident out on the highway that required an extrication.

Duo shifted the rig from reverse to drive and pulled out again, pausing long enough for Heero to climb back in and to hit the garage door button before taking off into the night again.

"What dark pagan god do I have to sacrifice something to, to get some sleep tonight?" the braided driver grumbled.

Heero snorted as he slowly started shrugging his coat and hood back on. "I figured you'd already pissed off Loki for us today, Maxwell," Heero replied, "Since it seems like he's screwing us now."

"Great. I can't even enjoy getting fucked anymore," Duo muttered darkly.

"Typically, it's more fun with a partner," Zechs observed innocently as he settled his helmet back on.

"Stuff your blissful domesticity, Merquise," Duo snarled.

"Jealous?" the blond captain asked with a quirked up brow.

A growl burbled up from Duo's throat, and, as if to mock him further still, Quatre waved at him as Medic 6 screamed past them on their way to the same call.

"That's it. I quit. I'm gonna go become a priest. At least they get alter boys," Duo sighed under his breath.

* * *

"You look like shit, Duo," Hilde observed as Medic 6 pulled away with its cargo of critically injured automobile passenger. A nearby dark sheet shielded the more unfortunate driver from overly curious eyes. "Haven't you gotten any sleep yet?"

Duo sighed tiredly as he coiled the hydraulic hoses from their extrication tool, shaking his head as he glanced up at her. "Not more than a half hour, I think. What time is it now, anyway?"

"Just before five in the morning. Only two more hours. Will you live that long?" she asked, only half in jest.

"I'll be fine. I'll sleep till tomorrow, but I'll be fine," he replied.

"How many calls have you had today, anyway?" she asked, bending down to help him carry the tool generator to its compartment on Engine 8.

"I lost track. Sixteen? Seventeen? Enough," he answered with a shrug.

"Does that mean you're not wearing any pants under your bunkers?" she asked sweetly.

Heero, having overheard the question from where he stood securing the Jaws of Life back on the rig, scowled to himself at the female firefighter's curiosity. "He makes a regular habit of that?" he found himself asking.

Hilde looked up, nodding as she grinned widely at the flush creeping up Duo's cheeks. "You should have seen him in Academy. We all used to pray for busy nights when he'd get lazy and not bother with his uniform pants. You had such a nice ass then, Duo. Too bad you let it all go to flab," she remarked with a wink towards Heero, and a lingering pat to the object under discussion.

Only an extreme exertion of Heero's considerable willpower kept the growl sitting in his throat silent as Duo spluttered indignantly at the comment and the manhandling.

"I have *not* let it get flabby! Right Heero?"

Hearing his name, Heero blinked and met Duo's outraged gaze. "Nani?" he asked slowly.

"My ass. It's still cute, right?" Duo asked, turning and striking a pose towards Heero.

Heero blinked again. After a long moment, he threw his hands up and spun around, stalking away, muttering in Japanese as he retreated, "The gods hate me. I've offended my Ancestors, the gods hate me, and this is my punishment. God of Death, please take me now."

Hilde looked cutely puzzled at the foreign words, while Duo bit back his nearly automatic retort. After all, Heero apparently still didn't realize that he spoke Japanese as well, or that his childhood nickname was Shinigami. He grinned wickedly to himself, exhaustion momentarily forgotten as his scheming brain informed him that there was hope yet.

"Your wish is my command, Yuy," he muttered under his breath as he returned to stowing their tools.

* * *

The clock read 5:45 by the time they'd gotten done packing up their stuff, talking to the State Police Accident Reconstructionist, and returned to Firehouse Number 8. Medic 6 had already returned, and Trowa could be seen through the large plate glass window, sitting at the computer in the office filling out their report. Through the door into the kitchen, Heero saw Quatre pour a pitcher of water into the coffee maker and flip the appliance on.

"Morning wake up call is in 45 minutes. It's not even worth trying to take a nap," Duo grumbled as the rig's engine sputtered and died.

"May all the gods in heaven stand up and take notice. Duo Maxwell passing up an opportunity to sleep. I do believe I hear the shattering of a Seal," Zechs commented as he hopped down from his seat.

Heero stifled a small snicker as Duo scowled and then slammed his door shut again without exiting the rig. "Would it be insubordinate of me to tell you to piss off and die, Zechs?"

The blonde captain laughed as he retreated to the kitchen and a mug of coffee he could hear calling his name. "After the day we've had? I'd be surprised and disappointed if you didn't."

Heero watched the door swing shut behind Zechs before turning back to where Duo sat in the rig. If Heero didn't know better, he'd swear that the braided driver was pouting.

"You planning on staying there until we get off at 7?" he asked quietly as he hung his coat on the rig.

"May as well. Not like I won't be out here in another five minutes anyway, when we get another run," Duo replied sullenly.

Heero's brows rose into his hairline as he realized that Duo *was* pouting. "You really are tired," he observed quietly.

"You go to college to get that smart, soldier-boy?" Duo quipped back acerbically. Before Heero could retort, Duo shook his head and offered the firefighter an apologetic look. "Sorry man. Day's been too long. Just tired. Didn't mean to take it out on you."

"It's all right, Duo. It *has* been a long day. Just-" Heero was interrupted by the tone of the speaker. Duo tossed him an I-told-you-so look.

"Aid call for Engine 8, Medic 6..."

Heero sighed tiredly, absently absorbing the address as he climbed slowly back into his bunker pants. Zechs jogged back out, depositing his coffee cup on the tool bench as he passed, followed by Trowa and Quatre. Four doors slammed shut, two sets of lights flashed on, and two sirens wailed in the dawn air as the ambulance and firetruck pulled onto the deserted street.

* * *

An hour later, Medic 6 and Engine 8 both slowly back into their bays once more, over worked engines pinging and clicking slightly once they were shut off as overheated parts slowly cooled. Duo leaned over the wheel for a long moment, intending to get his bearings and his breath back. He awoke again as Heero gently shook his arm.

"Duo. Wake up. It's time to go home. The next shift is in to take over. We can go," Heero said quietly as Duo blinked sleepily at him.

"It's 7?" Duo asked, confused for a moment.

"Hai. Time to go home."

"Oh. Cool. They're gonna need fuel. She's down to quarter of a tank," Duo said as he exited Engine 8 in a controlled tumble.

"They know. Zechs told them," Heero assured him before a huge yawn cut off his speech.

Duo grinned at him as Heero finished his yawn. "You mean even you get tired?" he asked with amusement.

"Baka," Heero sighed as he led Duo to the kitchen where Zechs was finishing up giving the next shift their notes on equipment they'd used and supplies that needed replacing.

Duo snickered before he detoured to the bunkroom to break down his bed, put the blankets away, and gather up the discarded bits of his uniform. He slipped back into the kitchen just as Heero headed in to put his own bedding away.

"Well, if that's everything, I'm going home to collapse," Duo said.

"Sounds like a good idea, Maxwell. Don't get yourself killed on the way home. See you in a couple of days," Zechs replied.

Duo nodded and tossed everyone a parting wave before he headed for the parking lot, still wearing his bunker pants.

"I'm almost tempted to stay here and take a nap," Quatre commented as he tiredly watched the door click shut behind Duo, "And we weren't nearly as busy as you guys were yesterday."

"Just one of those days," Zechs replied. "Hopefully we won't be due for a repeat of that for a long while."

"Hn. Where's Duo?" Heero asked from the bunkroom doorway as he slammed his locker shut.

"He just left, Heero," Quatre answered, nodding towards the door and the parking lot beyond.

"Sounds like a good idea," the Japanese firefighter commented as he wadded up the uniform that was still wet from the dive rescue the night before, and tucked it under his arm. With a polite nod at them all, he headed for the door, Zechs, Trowa, and Quatre in his wake.

Outside, Wufei leaned against his car, waiting for Zechs so he could drive the exhausted captain home. "Rough night," he commented as Zechs gave him a grateful smile and slid into the passenger seat.

"You have no idea."

Quatre and Trowa tumbled into their silver Stingray, too tired even to give each other a customary good morning kiss before Quatre started up the car and backed it out of the lot. Heero watched the two cars depart before turning towards his own battered truck. Something beside it made him stop, a frown of concern creasing his brow.

"Duo?" he called as he approached the silent black Camaro still parked beside his truck.

He approached cautiously when he received no answer, heart skipping a beat as he found the braided driver slumped over the steering wheel of his own car. Reaching through the open window, Heero shook Duo gently, calling his name again. Duo jerked and sat up, blinking sleepily up at Heero.

"What... Where... What's going on?"

Heero sighed, pulling the door open with a shake of his head. "Move over, baka. I'll drive you home."

"What?" was the brilliant reply.

"I said, move over. I'll drive you home. Otherwise, you'll fall asleep at the wheel again and end up killing someone."

"Oh. I... You don't have to do that, Heero. I can-"

"Shut up and move, Duo. You can argue with me later when your brain is awake," Heero sighed with exasperation.

Duo chuckled in response as he slowly shifted over to the passenger seat. "Fair 'nuff."

Heero sighed and dropped his wet uniform on the floor mat of the back seat before sliding into the driver's seat and starting up the muscle car with a rumbling purr of its finely tuned engine.

"If I keep spending this much time in your house," he said as he carefully backed the car out of it's spot, "I should make up my own room and have you charge me rent."

"Ya say that as if it's a bad thing..." Duo managed with a huge yawn.

As Heero pulled onto the street and started navigating the familiar route to Duo's, thoughts of the braided driver's only garment under his bunker pants and their exceedingly good fit on him made Heero wonder if maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.


	20. Chapter 19

The rumbling purr of the Camaro's engine drowned out the soft hum of the garage door opener as it slowly winched the overhead door closed once again. Heero flipped the key back and killed the engine, blinking as the door behind him finally closed all the way and plunged Duo's garage into murky gloom.

"Duo, we're home. Wake up," he urged softly, pulling the keys out of the ignition as he gently shook the braided man's shoulder with his free hand.

Heero wasn't sure whether to laugh or sigh with exasperation as Duo curled up a little tighter in his seat and stubbornly refused to allow consciousness to intrude upon him. A low, indistinct groan of disapproval that settled into a quiet snore were Heero's only reward for attempting to awaken his partner. Before he had a chance to give in to either the laugh or the sigh, a huge yawn overtook him, threatening to split his head open with the strength and suddenness of it. Heero shook his head and opened the driver's door, slowly swinging his legs out and swaying to his feet.

Before he forgot, he reached back through the door and retrieved his still wet uniform, tossing it to the floor where it couldn't hurt the Camaro's leather interior. He'd get around to washing it after he'd had a few hours of rest under his belt, and was back at his own apartment.

Duo didn't stir as Heero shut the driver's door with a quiet slam before slipping over to open the passenger door.

"Come on, Duo. At least wake up enough to swing your legs out," Heero urged, kneeling down to gently shake his partner again.

"Hnn?" Duo groaned, eyes slitting open to peer wearily at Heero, "Wha..."

"Stand up, Duo. We're home. Time to go to bed," Heero answered gently as he carefully helped Duo struggle from the deep bucket seats.

Heero's eyes zoomed in on the pendulum swing of the tip of Duo's braid as it dangled between their hips. It took him a moment to realize that Duo's eyes had slid shut again, and he was now standing only by dint of Heero's firm support. Tearing his eyes away from the hypnotizing swing of chestnut silk, Heero slid his free hand up to the suspenders of Duo's bunkers, pushing them off the braided driver. Shifting to keep his shoulder under Duo and keep the other firefighter upright, Heero deftly unsnapped the metal clasp, and ripped open the thick Velcro keeping Duo's bunkers closed over his hips. The heavy fabric slid down the unconscious man's thighs, pooling around the heavy fire boots.

Duo shivered slightly as the cooler air of the dark garage hit his newly exposed skin, a faint frown of discontent creasing his brow as he unconsciously pressed closer to Heero's warmth.

"It's okay, Duo. I've got you," Heero said quietly as he tossed Duo's arm over his shoulder and leaned over enough to slip an arm under Duo's knees.

His vision wavered slightly from his own exhaustion, and Heero bit his lip hard, struggling to keep his balance until the dizziness passed. Once it had, Heero stood once more, lifting Duo easily into his arms, the heavy fire boots dropping back to the floor with dull clumps and the soft jingle of the suspender clasps striking the concrete. Once again, Heero found himself biting his lip hard, fighting down the surge of... contentment as Duo's head turned to rest against his shoulder.

The door into the kitchen swung away as Heero nudged it open with his toe, pausing only long enough to kick his shoes off beside the door before he kicked it shut and headed down the hall to Duo's bedroom.

Despite the few times he'd visited in the past, Heero had never actually been *in* Duo's private sanctum, had never even seen past the doorway. He was pleasantly surprised as he slipped carefully through the doorway to find the bedroom as neat and tidy as the rest of Duo's home.

A wide window across the room admitted a bright splash of natural light, bathing the room in a soft slightly bluish glow of the northern morning sky. The walls were painted in a neutral tone, an odd color that was neither white, nor yellow, which seemed, in reality, more of a soft blue grey, while somehow not seeming oppressive. All the accents, from the door and window trim, to the frame of a rice-paper screen in the corner, were done in oak which had been stained a deep, rich black that perfectly matched the thick down comforter on the queen sized bolster bed.

Heero crossed to the low bed and carefully pushed the blanket down with one knee until he'd freed enough space to deposit his, amazingly, still sleeping burden. Once he had Duo settled onto the bed, and had removed the other man's sweaty shirt and pulled the comforter up over his bare chest, Heero stepped back and rolled his shoulders to work out the kink he'd gotten. As he stretched, he continued to survey the room, brow quirking up in surprise and appreciation at the flawless melding between East and West.

In the corner on the same wall as the door, a strange, round chair, like a huge bowl made from a precise web of thick cane, sat empty, save for the equally large down pillow filling it. A small black oak table sat beside the chair, along with a small footstool made of the same cane and pillow cushion combination as the chair. On the opposite wall, beside the large window, a large oak armoire made of the same black stained oak lorded over a corner beside a doorway that obviously led to Duo's bathroom. A doorway on the same wall, only nearer the door into the hallway, apparently led into a large walk-in closet where Duo must keep most of his things, as there were no other dressers obvious. Between the bathroom and closet, opposite the wall where the bed stood, was an entertainment system, also made from that same black oak.

A comfortably sized TV took up the lion's share of the shelving, although a fairly impressive stereo system occupied another large portion. Speakers were tucked unobtrusively into the corners behind the bed, as well as the ceiling above it. From the other electronic equipment, such as game console, DVD player and VCR, as well as the vast array of movies and games Heero could see tucked on the shelves, he guessed that what time Duo didn't spend out in the garage with his beloved machines, was spent here in this room.

Continuing his survey, Heero noticed that the walls were bare, save for a pair of rice-paper scrolls that hung one on either side of the bed. The one to the left was a beautifully stark haiku about snowflakes falling on water, while the scroll on the right was simply 'Fire of Soul' brushed in perfect kanji.

Unconsciously, Heero's eyes tracked down the scroll and flowed to the bed where Duo was even now nuzzling contentedly into his blanket. The contrast of chestnut gold against deep ebony was as quietly startling as that between the deep black kanji against the soft pale walls.

It was nearly five minutes later when Heero suddenly became aware that he'd been standing in the same spot, staring down at his partner in a perfect state of empty mind. Scowling to himself, Heero crossed over to the wide window, unconsciously checking the lock before drawing the heavy, black drapes closed. He heaved a small sigh of relief for the thickness of the fabric when the room was submerged in tomblike dusk.

With a final glance back at Duo, Heero slipped out of the room and took a quick tour of the house, checking all the doors and windows to be sure they were locked. Satisfied, Heero headed for the living room and the couch, the blanket he'd used last time he'd slept there still draped artfully over the back and one arm.

Not even bothering to peel out of his own clothing, Heero spread the blanket over himself and settled back against the cushions, finally giving in to the lethargy creeping over his abused muscles.

There is a state between wakefulness and dreaming when all senses are both at once hypersensitive, and dulled by the quiet promise of oblivion. The mind, poised as it is between the plunge into the void of unconsciousness and the harsh reality of the waking world, sifts selectively through those sensations which penetrate the fog of weariness, discarding as it sees fit. In this odd floating world, the quietest tick of a drop of water splashing against the kitchen sink can shout across the mind like an atom bomb, while the loud crash of a door slamming can go unnoticed in the din of silence.

It was in this pleasant haze, with his brain just barely beginning its first step into his usual fare of dreamless sleep, that the quiet moan broke through Heero's rest.

Before he was even fully aware of it, Heero found himself striding quickly down the dark hallway into Duo's room, pausing at the threshold to see the braided man curled into a tight, shivering ball on the center of his bed. Dropping the blanket he hadn't even remembered bringing with him, Heero crossed to Duo and reached out to close his hand over one taut forearm.

"Duo!"

The bright, fevered flush to Duo's skin startled Heero, almost making his fingers recoil from the heat of it before he forestalled the reaction. As soon as his fingers tightened, Duo shot awake, eyes wide and flashing strangely in the dim light of the room as he struggled to sit up.

"Shhhh... Go back to sleep Duo. It was just a dream."

The braided man's glazed and unresponsive gaze bounced off of him, concerned, dull, and tense.

"I'll be right here. I promise. I'm not going anywhere..." Heero murmured very quietly.

Duo's face immediately relaxed and his eyes slid shut. He rolled back over, tucking himself into his tumble of blankets again.

"Thanks, Heero..." he sighed softly, almost too softly for Heero to hear.

Heero bit his lip at the flash of warmth and fierce protectiveness and abject trust that the quiet murmur had inspired in him.

"I'll keep you safe."

He frowned suddenly at himself. Where had that come from? With a shake of his head, Heero turned back towards the door, snatching the blanket up off the floor before settling into the odd bowl shaped chair in the corner.

Too close. Things, people... Duo. Duo was getting too close. Heero's brow furrowed as he sought a means to increase their distance again. It was too uncomfortable being so close to his flame. Or rather, it wasn't uncomfortable enough, and that frightened him. With a frustrated sigh, he settled back against the cushion, kicking his feet up on the footstool and pulling the blanket up around him to ward off the chill.

Duo's breathing had since evened back out into sleep, although, truth be told, Heero doubted that Duo ever had been truly awake anytime since their car ride to his home. Heero shifted a little, surprised at how comfortable the curious chair was, as he contemplated his partner.

He jerked a little as he felt his eyelids drooping with exhaustion. No. He couldn't fall asleep. He'd promised Duo he'd stay here and keep him safe. He may not have known where that promise had come from, but he'd said it, so he couldn't fail now. He blinked hard, forcing his eyes wide open and shoving the exhaustion creeping over him as far away as he could. He shifted again, sitting up as straight as the chair would allow him to, his hands clenched into tight fists as he stared at the wrapped bundle of human on the bed.

"Relax, soldier."

Heero jumped, his whole body instinctively curling up into as best a defensive crouch as he could muster, cradled as he was in the round chair. His narrow eyed gaze darted over to the doorway to Duo's bedroom, searching for the voice as a fierce expletive burst from his lips.

"You sure don't follow orders well," the tall blond man suddenly standing beside the chair commented sardonically.

"Wha-"

"I said relax, soldier."

"Odin?" Heero breathed, his eyes huge as saucers as he peered at his old guardian, "I'm insane..."

"No. You're asleep. There's a difference."

"Masaka," Heero hissed.

"'Fraid so, boy. You're asleep. Unless you'd rather be insane. Either way, you failed a mission. If I were you, I'd rather fail the whole inane keeping watch one that the much more important sanity one."

Heero stared at him dumbly for a long moment, his body still tense, fight or flight reflexes ready to spring any second.

"Will you relax? Sleep is a necessary component of human existence. Despite how you may view yourself at times, you really ARE human."

"What are you doing here?"

Odin Lowe blinked calmly and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers as he glanced back over at the sleeping Duo.

"I don't know," he answered with a shrug, "This is your dream, Heero."

"I don't dream..."

"You do now. Just look at yourself. Do you really think you'd be this flustered or expressive if this were real and you were really awake?" Odin asked with a wave of his hand at Heero's sweating, panting, almost cringing form, still curled on the papasan chair.

Heero thought about that for a long moment before shaking his head in agreement.

"Dreams are a reflection of our unconscious desires... In dreams, people are always better, faster, stronger, more open than they are in real life. Or weaker," Odin added as an afterthought, "Depends on how much a person hates themselves at the time. Humans have an amazing propensity for self-hate and loathing."

"I don't hate myself."

"Really? Then why did you automatically assume I was talking about you?" Odin asked, his voice colored with amusement as he glanced back down at his former charge, "It's too late, you know..."

"Too late? For what?"

"To not care. It's too late. You may hate me, boy, but I did manage to at least teach you that one lesson. It just took a long time for it to sink in."

"Lesson? What the hell kind of nonsense are you talking about?"

"What's your earliest memory?"

Heero blinked, tearing his gaze away from Odin as he contemplated the question.

"Smoke? Fire? Me? Hate and soot and pain and ash? Arson and murder? That's what you remember, isn't it? I don't blame you for hating me."

Heero's eyes darted back up to Odin's face, their cobalt depths sparking with anger and agreement.

"There was something before me, you know. I'm not your father. Think back. Try to think back to a time before me. Don't push too hard, but look. What do you see?"

Heero frowned, and then closed his eyes as he obeyed. A crease deepened upon his brow and his hands balled into fists.

"... a wall..."

"Yeah. A big, charred, thick, ugly titanium wall."

Heero's eyes popped open and he peered up at Odin with confusion in his eyes.

"I found you when you were just a child... So small. Even then you were quiet, withdrawn, almost dead to the world. Think about that, boy. Is that normal for a toddler? Do children so young usually have such darkness in them that makes them so... dead?"

Heero frowned again, closing his eyes once more to think back, to push past that barrier in his mind. A warm hand suddenly closed over his arm.

"Don't. Don't push that."

"Why?"

"What function does a wall perform, Heero? It blocks. It protects. It holds things out or things in. It's a shield from something. Think about that. I know you hate me, I know that, but please... If ever I meant anything at all to you, boy... Just leave it be. You aren't ready."

Heero scowled, shifting in the chair to sit up a little and glare at Odin.

"What's beyond it?" he demanded harshly.

"Your life. Your family."

"Family?" Heero asked, cocking his head in comic bafflement.

"Yeah. Family. The stork's just a fairy tale, boy. You came from somewhere, and it sure as hell wasn't from me. You had a mother. A father. Couple of sisters. A brother. A family."

Heero shook his head, simply unable to comprehend such a revelation. He glanced back up at Odin and his eyes narrowed once again.

"Too late for what?" he asked sharply, returning to their previous discussion.

"That's my Heero," Odin said with a quiet smile, "Too late to not care. The one lesson I managed to pound home to you. Follow your emotions. It's okay to feel."

"It gets in the way," Heero replied, shaking his head and glancing back towards Duo's slumbering form.

"That wall... Before that wall, you weren't like this. You laughed and cried. You had joy. You were alive. The only thing getting 'in the way' is that wall."

"You told me not to push past that," Heero growled.

"I did. But if that's what you were before, when you were so young and innocent... How can that be wrong?"

"I was never innocent," Heero hissed accusingly at the older blond man.

"You were. Before me. My life was shit, Heero. I was a bad person, just living the only way I ever knew. Repeating the mistakes of my father, the same way he did his own father's. But you... You were my redemption. My one chance. By trying to save you, I saved myself. That one lesson... It was my only salvation. You can't give up on it. I won't let you."

"So you're here for yourself, then," Heero snorted mirthlessly.

"No. I'm here for the little kid I found so long ago. The one who lost the ability to cry. The one who doesn't know how to smile anymore. I'm here for him. I'm here to tell him, once again, that it's okay to feel. It's okay to live."

"How can I live without knowing the truth?"

"Don't, Heero. The truth might just kill you. That wall's there for a reason. If anyone could break it down, it would be you. But you aren't ready for that yet. Maybe never. You just have to rebuild, on this side."

"You said you found me..."

"I did."

"And you say that you know what's beyond the wall..."

"I do."

"How? How can the two work? If you found me, how can you know? Did you know me? Before?"

"No."

"Then how? Do you know what happened?"

"I didn't then. I do now," Odin replied cryptically.

Heero blinked, turning his wide cobalt stare up to his former mentor.

"You speak as if... But you're just a dream. You said so yourself."

"Am I?"

"You can't be a spirit. This is just a dream."

"Is it? Or is it the only way to get you to understand? You said yourself that you don't dream."

"You're trying to make me doubt myself."

"No. You're doing a good job of that on your own already, boy. I'm trying to get you to believe. In yourself. In life. In him."

Heero glanced back over at the lump in Duo's bed, a perplexed frown creasing his brow again.

"I don't understand!"

"That's kinda the point. What are you feeling, Heero? Frustrated? Angry? Weak?"

At Heero's angry nod, Odin chuckled softly.

"Don't you get it? You're feeling. And what you're feeling can only mean that you're trying. Trying to understand. Trying to reach out and feel. You're trying. You want to feel. "

Heero's head snapped back around, spearing Odin with a stupefied stare.

"You want... Him."

"I can't..." Heero gasped, his voice choking off with the constriction of panic in his throat.

"Why not?"

"...safe... It's not... safe..."

"Oh for heaven's... You're not going to let that asshole J run your life anymore, are you, boy?"

"They'll hurt him."

"Yeah, they'll try," Odin agreed pleasantly, "But I know something you don't."

"You can't. This is just a dream."

"Keep believing that if you like, Heero. But just think on this for a moment. I know things. I know a lot of things now that just make me want to laugh at the irony of it all. If it makes you feel more comfortable thinking of me as nothing more than a dream, a wisp of your own subconscious trying to baffle you, then consider this. I don't fear J or his power over either of you. If I'm just part of you... then neither do you. You can't use that as an excuse."

Odin chuckled at Heero's sudden frown of contemplation.

"It's enough. I should know by now that I can barely lead you to water, never mind getting you to drink it. You'll get thirsty enough one of these days. You'll finally see. I have faith. It's enough to plant the seeds in your mind."

"Will you pick a metaphor and stick with it please?" Heero demanded with exasperation.

"Just trying to keep you on your toes," Odin replied with a smug grin.

"You always were an arrogant prick," Heero muttered darkly before finally relaxing back into the embrace of the chair's thick cushion. Before Odin could respond to that, Heero threw a half-hearted kick in the blonde's general direction, following it up with a softly growled, "Don't you have someone else you could be haunting? I'm supposed to be sleeping now."

Odin made a show of checking a non-existent watch for the time, before smirking down at the exhausted firefighter.

"I suppose it is time for Tsuberov's morning nightmare, isn't it?" Odin asked as he took a step away. He was halted by the iron grip of a clammy hand around his arm.

"What did you say?" Heero asked in a deathly calm voice.

"I thought I was just a dream," Odin replied quietly without looking down at his former charge.

"I thought you implied you were a spirit sent to guide me," Heero countered quickly, voice still low, a bare whisper of menace.

"And if I am?"

"Where is he?" The question was simple, just a mere three syllables of harmless inquiry. The tone, however, that tone which could have flash-boiled a man's heart from the inside out in under a second, was anything but harmless.

"For everything there is a time and place, my lad. And there are some things which even I can't tell you," Odin replied, "You have to chose which to really believe. Am I a dream, a mirror of your subconscious desire to torment The Machine to his grave? Or am I a spirit, wandering the earth, seeking redemption through your life, and the torture of a madman?"

"That's not the right answer," Heero growled, tightening his grip upon Odin's arm until he could feel the bones under his fingers begin to grate painfully against each other.

"You've made your choice, I see," Odin observed casually. "Just remember... You can't chose to believe in something only halfway. Either you do, or you don't. There's no middle ground." Odin paused there, finally ducking his head down to lock eyes with the Japanese youth glaring at him. "The time for your confrontation will come. You'll keep the vows you've made, however unconsciously, to him," he said, indicating Duo with a jerk of his head.

"There's no such thing as a grand fate," Heero spat.

"You're right," Odin agreed with a wry smile, "But I know you, boy. You won't fail. Not like me."

Before Heero could do anything more than growl indistinctly, Odin began slowly fading from sight, the firm warmth of his flesh in Heero's grip dissolving into insubstantiality. Almost like the Cheshire cat, the last thing to fade was the wry twisting grin that had overtaken his mouth.

"I know you'll never believe me, kid," Odin's voice said, filling the room within Heero's dream with it's rich, though regretful, tones, "But I loved you in my own way. I was just trying to do the best I could with what tiny measure of freedom they gave me. Maybe you'll understand someday..."

A frustrated howl ripped from Heero's throat, and he struggled to extricate himself from Duo's chair to somehow chase after the faded wisp of his old mentor. However, even the chair seemed to be intent on thwarting him as well, as it started shaking as soon as he started thrashing within its grasp. The whole world seemed to shake, tossing him about like a ragdoll caught in the jaws of a rabid dog.

It was a testament to his own exhaustion that it took him nearly a half a minute to realize that, no, it wasn't the room and the chair which were shaking... He was the one shaking. Or rather, he was the one being shaken.

Distantly, he noted the deep lines and dark circles rimming the pair of concerned violet eyes that slowly swam into focus, as well as the hoarse rasp of the normally cheerfully composed voice as it called his name.

"Duo?" he croaked awkwardly as he shook his head, attempting to clear the cobwebs from it.

"Heero, wake up. Come on, man... All the way. Wake up."

"I'm awake. What's going on," he said, frowning as he took in the worried expression on Duo's face and the violent dishevel of his friend's bed. With the blanket and sheets lying in tangles all over the floor, it almost looked as if Duo's bed had exploded. Heero frowned tersely, wondering if Duo had had another nightmare while he'd been asleep... or whatever he'd been.

"I was going to ask you that," Duo replied, cutting through the line of self-recriminating thought that was just starting up within Heero's brain. "I heard a weird noise and woke up, and you were having a dream or something. You looked... pissed... or scared or something. Like you were having a nightmare..."

"You're okay?" Heero asked before he could catch himself.

Duo quirked up an eyebrow as he regarded the Japanese man. "Yeah. I'm fine. You were the one having the nightmare."

"You were having them before," Heero explained with a soft shake of his head, "I must have fallen asleep..."

Duo blinked as he realized that Heero had been watching over him as he slept, probably waking him up enough every once in a while to keep the dreams at bay. He wasn't sure if he was relieved, flattered, angry, or something else as he also realized that Heero was angry with himself for having fallen asleep.

"And you're surprised after yesterday?" he said, voice rising with exasperation before another thought occurred to him. "Umm... Heero? How did I get home?"

It was Heero's turn to blink as Duo neatly cut off his slowly darkening thoughts once again.

"You fell asleep at the wheel of your car out in the parking lot. I figured you'd probably kill yourself trying to drive yourself home, so I drove us both to your place. Your car's in the garage," Heero answered slowly.

"Oh," Duo answered ingeniously. "I'm sorry you had to do that. I didn't realize how tir-"

"Duo? Shut up and go back to sleep," Heero sighed, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and resignation as Duo, like always, attempted to assume blame. It was a habit that it seemed they both shared. "It's only been..." he paused to glance at the clock on the VCR, "three hours, we were both exhausted, you live closer to Station 8 than I do, and the chair's more comfortable than my own bed. Give the apologies a rest and go back to sleep."

Duo's eyes snapped open wide in surprise as Heero's flood of explanation washed over him in a rush. A slow grin started creeping onto his lips as he peered down at Heero.

"Are you giving me orders now? Ya know... I rank you, Yuy," Duo informed with a smirk.

"Yippie. And if you don't get some rest, and let me get some, then you'll never manage to drag me off to Jake's tonight like you always try," Heero replied blandly, shutting his eyes and settling back against the cushion again with the blanket tucked up under his chin.

Duo's brows shot into his hairline. "'Yippie'? Did you actually just say... 'yippie'?" he asked, dumbfounded.

Heero cracked an eyelid just barely enough to level a menacing glare at Duo. A silent, menacing glare.

Realizing that he'd gotten the only answer he was going to, Duo finally shook his head and returned to his bed, climbing back into it and pulling the comforter around him again.

"'Yippie'. Will wonders never cease?" the braided man muttered before flopping backward onto his pillow and shutting his eyes.

Several long minutes later, Heero cracked an eye open again, peering over at Duo and noting the slow, even rise and fall of his chest with satisfaction. He heaved a sigh of relief now that Duo was once again asleep and could not longer hear it.

That had been far too close. Apparently Duo either had not realized, not noticed, or not cared that all he'd been clothed in was his boxers. The ones with the Dalmatians in fire helmets and the spotted hearts.

Heero gritted his teeth and tried desperately to not think about them as he firmly closed his eyes and willed himself towards sleep.

'Silk... Who wears silk to work?' Heero thought to himself. Just before the darkness of oblivion fell over him again, he heard his own voice whisper disjointedly, "Silk... boxers."


	21. Chapter 20

For a brief moment that seemed to last forever, Duo couldn't quite remember where he was. Despite the slick warmth of his favorite blanket sliding along his skin, and the familiar almost sweet scent of his shampoo barely detectable through the open bathroom door across the room, something felt. off about his bedroom. No, not really off, but different. As he lay there motionless in his bed and concentrated, it suddenly struck him.

There was someone in his room with him. An almost inaudible bellow of exhaled breath from the tangle of afghan on the papasan chair beside his bed gave the intruder away. Now why the hell would anyone sneak into his house to fall asleep in his papasan chair?

Duo sat up in bed slowly, running a hand through the tangled mess of his bangs as he contemplated his visitor from a new angle. Heero had shifted positions in his sleep, tipping the chair back little by little until the top was almost parallel to the floor, like a bird's nest, and then tucked up under the blanket from the living room couch until all that could be seen of his head was the chaotic tumble of his messy brown hair peeking out from the cheerfully knitted afghan. Blinking with confusion, Duo turned and eyed the LCD on his stereo, cocking his head as he realized it was late afternoon. He must have been worn out to have slept this long!

Especially if Heero was here napping with him.

As he arched his back in a bone-popping stretch, the events of the previous day slowly started reasserting themselves in his memory. The fire in the hotel where they rescued that psycho-rich-chick, Zechs' sister, the drowning, all those automatic alarms and aid calls, and that massive mansion fire over in Panther Prairie, one, right after another, until Heero had offered to drive him home so he didn't fall asleep behind the wheel. Again.

Duo swung himself slowly around until his toes just barely touched down on his blue carpet, pausing there and leaning back on his hands as he contemplated the papasan chair and the huddle of blanket and firefighter cradled within. Heero chose that moment to shift position again, and Duo was half afraid that he'd accidentally woken the Japanese man up. Pulling the knitted blanket up under his chin with one hand, pillowing his opposite cheek in the other, Heero subsided back into sleep, and Duo forgot to breathe.

Other than when he'd drugged the other man in the hospital, he'd never actually seen Heero sleeping before. Every other time one of the two of them had ever ended up staying at the other's place, Heero was almost always up first. If not, he always seemed to wake up either before or as Duo was entering the room. While they were at work, Heero was always up and getting dressed before Duo had swung himself out of bed when they got alarms at night, and the Japanese man never indulged in an afternoon nap, even when they had completed all their training or were on a Sunday or holiday schedule. The difference between a sleeping Heero and an awake, even expressionless Heero was.

Duo shook his head, sucking in a quiet gasp of breath as he struggled to find words, any words, to adequately describe it.

He couldn't finger any one change, or even a group of them. There were just too many of them, and most of them so small as to be almost unnoticeable, but they were there, and their sum total created a Heero that he'd never seen before. Heero's brow was relaxed, lacking the tiny lines near his eyes and hairline that always made him look like a cat about to jump through the roof, or a lion on the stalk. The drawn tenseness of his mouth had faded, leaving behind a soft quality that bespoke the quiet humor that Duo had been given rare glimpses of over the last few weeks. The dark lashes lying against Heero's cheeks didn't even twitch as the Japanese firefighter exhaled a quiet sigh, though his mouth parted and his tongue slipped out to moisten his lower lip briefly. Even while standing motionless, Heero had never looked so still before, despite the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

For one wild instant, Duo wondered if the image would waver if he simply stuck his finger out, like ripples of water spreading out from the center when you drop a pebble into a mirror calm pond. Duo shook his head suddenly, banishing the crazy idea even as he remembered to breathe again. He *had* seen this expression on Heero before, or something similar.

Three nights ago, in fact.

He'd gone to Jake's to celebrate being out of the hospital, not stopping by to pick up Heero because he'd figured the other man would be glad to finally have some peace after the previous week. Duo had spent the night trying to keep his mind occupied, plying his other firefighter friends with beer and cajoling them into games of darts and pool in an attempt to quiet an odd restlessness within him that had driven him to the bar in the first place. Nothing he did, however, seemed to help quell the slowly rising sense of almost. panic until he'd gone back to his table by the front window to grab a fresh bottle of beer, and happened to glance outside onto the street. It was the flashy white motorcycle that grabbed his attention at first, until he'd recognized the lithe form leaning over it an instant later.

Before he realized what he was doing, Duo had leaned out the front door and called to Heero while the light was still red, urging the other man to come inside for a beer and a game or two. The light changed to green even as Duo ducked back inside and silently asked himself what he thought he was doing. He watched through the glass upper panel of the door, grip on the darts in his hand so tight that it left grooves in his skin, as Heero glanced up at the green light, and then over at the front door of the bar.

And when the Japanese man had slowly pulled his bike up on the sidewalk beside Duo's Harley, the braided man remembered to breathe again. He bounced over to the table, catching up another beer and then met Heero at the door, pressing one of the bottles into Heero's hand before dragging him off to challenge the guys of Engine 6 to a few games. They didn't stay for too much longer after winning a few rounds, Heero opting to 'get Duo home before he passed out', or something like that. One of the guys promised to get Duo's bike home for him, so he hopped on behind Heero, and the two of them rode around for a little while. They paused outside Duo's garage by mutual accord, watching the night sky as Heero confessed that he'd been doing that earlier before stopping at Jake's.

As they stood together in companionable silence there on his driveway, staring up at the stars, Duo saw an unfamiliar expression slowly drop over Heero's face. Calm. Contemplation. Quiet. Stillness.

As Duo's eyes focused upon the still slumbering firefighter once again, his brain finally supplied him with the word he'd been seeking all along.

Peace.

It hadn't taken too much convincing to get Heero to come inside and sack out on his couch, rather than trek across town to his own empty apartment with the Japanese man in such a mellow, peaceful mood. Duo remembered feeling relieved. Not so much that Heero wouldn't be risking the drive back home when he was so obviously worn out, but that Heero was staying *there*. With him.

"Maxwell, you got it bad," he whispered to himself, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands for a moment. Tilting his chin up, he peered between his fingers, absorbing more of the sight of Heero still sleeping so calmly not three feet away. With a twang of regret, he realized that it would probably be the only time he'd ever get a chance to see the sight, and busily set about memorizing every moment of it.

A quiet groan rose from the pit of his stomach as he suddenly realized that the growing ache in his nether regions wasn't a muscle cramp building up, but the result of watching Heero obliviously snoozing away. "Worse than bad," he muttered, rising to his feet and pulling the top blanket off his bed to drape over Heero carefully. He was almost disappointed when the other man didn't awaken, but continued sleeping. Then again, if Heero had woken up, how would Duo have explained the uncomfortable, and obvious, tent in his boxers? 'Morning wood', Heero would be the first to point out, would only work if it were morning. Which, as Duo observed when he cracked the shades to peek outside, it just as obviously *wasn't*.

With a sigh, Duo turned towards the bathroom, some daring, and masochistic, urge making him strip off his boxers and toss them back on the bed as he headed off to find a shower.

A very *cold* shower.

"Bet Heero never has this problem," Duo muttered darkly as he flicked on his stereo on his way past. "God, life just isn't fucking fair."

* * *

It was the soft murmur of a surprisingly talented voice singing along with the equally soft lull of the stereo that eventually dragged Heero from sleep. Deep blue eyes fluttered open slowly, reveling in the unusually gentle transition from unconsciousness to alertness, an unexpected change from his normal instantaneous leap between the two states.

It felt nice.

There was just something so homey and welcoming about Duo's home that none of the places Heero had ever spent a night at before offered. His soldierly, rational brain hissed a warning to him about that, and the comforting state of lethargy that was overtaking him more and more with each extra minute spent here. The rest of his mind, however, had already told the 'soldier' to fuck off.

The drapes across the room had been cracked a few inches, though the light seeping through the crack was more orange than the bright gold Heero had been expecting. For a moment, he almost instinctively lurched up from the chair and tangle of blankets, but only for a moment. What difference did it make if it really was early evening or late afternoon as opposed to late morning? What else did he have to do with his life right then anyway?

Besides. This weird chair was way too comfortable to leave just yet. Especially given its prime location.

Upon the tail end of that thought, Heero opened his eyes again, instinctively seeking the braided driver. Duo's bed was empty, and while not yet made, seemed to have been put in some sort of order from the last time Heero had peered upon it and its chaotic tangle of blankets and sheets. Duo, himself, however, was nowhere in sight. The quiet tenor drifting out of the open bathroom door gave the long-haired man's presence away as Duo sang along with the muted song playing on the stereo.

Heero settled back into the papasan chair for a moment, letting his eyes drift closed again as he listened to the mixed sounds of music and the occasional splash of water that seemed to impossibly blend with and compliment Duo's voice.

Spice, Vanilla, and Hazelnut. The occasional curl of steam wisping out from the open bathroom door smelled strongly of the shampoo that Duo favored at the firehouse, with a fainter trace of something spicy and masculine. It was oddly soothing.

Taking advantage of the relaxed atmosphere, Heero settled the blankets around his shoulders again and let his mind wander where it would even as his ears strained to absorb Duo's faint voice. He wasn't sure why he was so surprised every time he heard Duo sing; it happened often enough at the firehouse, both in jest, and in earnest, that he should be well acquainted with how talented Duo was by now. It was just another of those things that never ceased to amaze him about the braided man. Like how skilled a cook Duo was, or how insightful he could be as they watched the news and current events together.

With a guilty flush, Heero realized that he'd always underestimated Duo, and even when confronted with the proof to the contrary, was continuing to do so. He felt his mouth thin into a hard, self-depreciating line. Duo deserved better than that.

He sighed softly, flexing the hand he'd used to seize Odin's arm as it twinged with a precursor to a cramp. Shaking his head sharply, Heero shoved thoughts of 'Odin' from his mind. The implications of the dream, for that's surely what it had to be, were mildly frightening to the Japanese firefighter. He must have simply clenched his hand too tightly while asleep, straining muscles already stressed from the heavy workload the day before. The alternative had too many unsettling implications to contemplate.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Duo swept out of the open doorway, a brush clutched in one hand while his other attempted to tame the thick mane of dark chestnut into something resembling order.

"Oh. Hi. Um. I didn't wake you up, did I?" Duo asked, a little surprised himself at seeing Heero awake and sitting as upright as he could in the tipped back papasan chair. He dropped the handful of his hair as he self-consciously reached down to hitch the towel girding his hips just a little bit higher.

Heero tore his eyes away from that hand, blinking as he dragged his gaze back up to Duo's face and shook his head once. "Hn. I overslept," he said quietly by way of explanation. "Was just ready to wake up."

"Oh. Cool. Umm.. I was just finishing up in there. You can take a shower if you want when I'm done. We're about the same size, so you can borrow something of mine to wear 'till you get home, if you want," Duo replied, his brow furrowing slightly as he listened to himself and realized he was starting to repeat himself.

Heero didn't seem to notice, traces of his previous sleeping peace returning to his expression as his eyes wandered aimlessly over Duo's body. Prussian blue locked onto violet, and the faintest trace of a smile hovered at the corners of Heero's mouth. "Aa. Arigato."

The moment dragged on undisturbed until Duo blinked, swearing silently to himself as Heero suddenly looked away and started untangling himself from the blankets. The instant before he'd looked away, Duo could have sworn that Heero's cheeks had started to darken with a faint blush.

"I'll be back out in a sec," Duo said quickly, turning on his heel and vanishing back into the bathroom. He paused a few steps in, swore under his breath, then ducked back out to his closet for a moment to grab the fresh boxers and t-shirt that he'd originally come out for, before retreating back to the safety of the bathroom again.

Heero heaved a silent sigh of relief as Duo vanished, swallowing hard as he attempted to forget what Duo looked like clad in nothing but a towel and wet hair. Not that it mattered much, as his brain helpfully substituted a memory of Duo in the communal firehouse shower, sans towel. He screwed his eyes shut tight helplessly, a quiet groan slipping from his pursed lips as his brain continued to parade the memories past him like a movie stuck on endless loop.

"You okay, Heero?" Duo called from the open doorway.

"Fine. Just stiff," Heero growled in response, keeping his teeth clenched to keep the bite out of his voice as he contemplated the irony of his statement. One hand unconsciously slipped under the blankets still spread over his lap, and he wondered if he dared try and relieve the ache before Duo could finish up and come out to catch him at it. With his luck, the braided baka would probably want to thank him or something by doing his laundry for him while he was cleaning up. Thoughts of trying to explain that sticky, and more importantly, fresh, mess to Duo cooled his blood quickly, or rather, transferred the heat to his cheeks again as an embarrassed flush spread from his hairline down. Heero took a deep breath and consciously withdrew his hand, resting it atop the blanket and smoothing out a wrinkle in the knitted afghan absently. After a moment, he was convinced he could stand without giving too much away, and shifted to do just that.

Only to come to a stop as he suddenly realized that his dangling feet would no longer touch the floor. What the hell? His legs had been long enough last night. What could have happened? He leaned over, holding onto the side of the chair as he contemplated the underside as best he could, finally coming to the realization that the actual bowl-shaped part of the chair that he was seated on, or rather *in*, was not connected to the base, and had obviously tipped backwards during the course of his nap. All he had to do was change his position until he could rock the chair back forward enough that he could reach the floor again, and then it would be a simple matter to extricate himself and stand up. Simple.

Duo was just applying the elastic band to the tip of his braid when a loud crash from his bedroom made him jump. He spun around the doorway, fists coming up and weight settling back into a fighting stance instinctively at the unfamiliar racket. Heero blinked up at him from the floor, the cushion and cane frame of his papasan chair teetering against his back like a turtle shell, while the afghan slipped down from his head to obscure one eye. Duo couldn't initially decide which was funnier, the thought of Heero-as-turtle, or the dumbfounded, surprised expression in the Japanese man's eyes as he peered helplessly up at Duo from the floor.

An instant later, Duo decided he didn't care *which* thought was funnier; he just burst into laughter and stepped forward to offer Heero a hand up. He had to bite his lower lip to reduce his volume to snickers as Heero accepted the help and hopped to his feet, staring down at the offending chair and bedding with an affronted scowl.

That only served to set Duo off again, and he dropped Heero's hand to retreat back to the bathroom, tears springing to his eyes as he burst into giggles. Heero Yuy, rookie firefighter extraordinaire, lusted after by swooning millionaire heiresses and hyperactive firefighters alike, constitution of a stone ox. and to date, defeated only by. a papasan chair.

"God. Next time, Heero, just shove me over and steal a corner of my bed," Duo managed between gasps for breath and choked chuckles. "It's big enough for both of us and it'd be safer... for the floor!"

It was probably a good thing that Duo didn't choose that moment to poke his head out and gloat at the other firefighter, for the poleaxed, fish-out-of-water expression on Heero's face at *that* thought probably would have killed the braided man.

* * *

Heero pushed one hand through the damp tumble of his bangs, scowling at them when they settled back into place as if he'd never touched them. With a disgusted sigh at his recalcitrant hair, he arched his shoulders forward, flexing against the slightly tighter-than-he-was-used-to confines of the t-shirt that Duo had lent him to change into after his shower. He just hoped that he didn't tear out any of the seams since he was slightly broader shouldered than Duo.

The scent of coffee filling the house brought him out of his clothing contemplation. Gathering up the neat bundle of his dirty uniform, Heero slipped out of the bathroom and headed down the hall towards the kitchen. He detoured at the living room to drop off his clothes, and then continued on to find Duo standing before his stove, hips swaying in time to the music coming from the radio tucked up under one of the cabinets near the sink. Every room in the house, it seemed, had a stereo or a radio or something to provide music. That sudden realization, combined with Duo's habit of small talk, made Heero wonder why Duo feared silence so much.

Bare toes slapping against the tile, Heero crossed over to the coffee maker, surprised to find a full mug waiting for him already. He picked it up, turning to lean his hip against the countertop to watch as Duo carefully broke another egg into the hot skillet on the stove.

"I know it's dinner time, but breakfast's a habit. When you wake up, you eat eggs and hash browns, not pot roast," Duo observed with a wry grin as he tossed the shell into the trash. He glanced at Heero quickly, violet gaze appraising the Japanese man for a moment before turning his attention back to the stove. "Told you it'd fit."

"Hn," Heero agreed quietly, taking another sip of his coffee. The dark liquid slid down his throat easily, easing some tight spot deep within him that he hadn't even realized was tense until that moment. "Good coffee," he murmured as he crossed his free arm over his chest and tucked that empty hand into the crook of his elbow.

"That's because it's *real*. Not like that off brand shit you buy and ruin whatever potential it might have had by keeping it in your cabinet," Duo snorted, tossing Heero a sardonic smirk as he carefully flipped the eggs.

"Where else would you keep it?" Heero asked, cocking his head in confusion. "And what's wrong with the cost effective brand?"

"Cost effective?" Duo echoed incredulously. "You mean cheap. As in cheap shit. Man, Heero, you get what you pay for with that crap, don't you know?" The braided driver shot him a grin to take the sting out of the rebuke, although Heero could tell by the amused quirk of Duo's brow that he'd meant every word. "And you keep it in the freezer to seal in the flavor. Buy the whole beans, and keep it in the freezer. Then you grind it right before you're going to brew it. That way it doesn't lose anything and you get perfect coffee every time."

Heero peered down into his half empty mug with a look of bafflement before shrugging at Duo and finishing up the cup with a massive gulp. He ignored it when Duo started snickering, choosing instead to get himself another cup before turning his attention back to watching the orchestrated chaos taking place on the stove.

"Like I said," Duo observed cheerfully as he started flipping food onto a pair of plates, "I'll culture you yet, Heero." A moment later, a plate laden with sausage links, crisp hash browns, buttered toast, and eggs over easy, just the way Heero liked them, was thrust into his face. Duo grinned at him before taking his own plate and bouncing off towards the table.

As he slowly settled into a seat and Duo started chattering amiably as usual, it took Heero a moment to realize that the coffee wasn't the only thing soothing him from the inside out. There was just something so right about sitting across from Duo, eating a home cooked meal that didn't originate in a Styrofoam or tin foil tray, and listening to that familiar chatter. An irreverent corner of his brain suddenly commented that he'd have to find a way to duplicate this as often as possible.

"Have you ever had a room mate?"

Silence descended over the kitchen, and when he looked up to see the fork hovering forgotten in Duo's hand halfway to his open mouth, Heero realized that he'd been the one to ask that question. Duo blinked, shoving the fork into his mouth and affecting a cheerful grin before answering.

"Why? Looking for a new place to stay?"

The question made Heero's stomach feel weird, so he covered it by shaking his head sharply. "No. No. I just wondered. You're so. gregarious. It seems weird that you live alone."

"Oh," Duo replied, a guarded look entering his violet gaze as he returned his attention to his meal. "A few, now and then," he finally answered. "They never stuck around for long. Guess I'm too big a pain in the ass to live with, huh?"

"Not really," Heero surprised himself by answering. "But you like to pretend that way."

Duo gave him another odd look before covering it with his familiar joviality. "There's an empty room down the hall, anytime you think you're up for the challenge."

"Hn. I'll think about it."

Heero had to bite his lip to hold in the grin threatening to overtake him when he glanced up and noticed the stunned expression on Duo's face. With an odd little sense of triumph, Heero turned his attention back down to his plate, and the rest of their meal was accomplished in silence.

By the time they finished eating, cleaned up the kitchen, and Duo found Heero a pair of socks and shoes that would fit him long enough to get the Japanese man home to get a pair of his own, they decided it was late enough to head out. By Duo's reckoning, if they went to pick up Heero's truck from the station, took it back to his apartment where he could change into a comfortable pair of shoes, and then headed out to Jake's, they'd just beat the evening rush so they could grab a table. Zechs, Wufei, Trowa, and Quatre would either be there shortly afterwards, or might even beat them there. Provided any of the others had actually woken up yet. They'd all had just as busy a day as Heero and Duo had. But Jake's had always been their little tradition, one that Heero had apparently grudgingly allowed himself to be dragged into.

Heero slid onto the big Harley behind Duo, tucking the sacked bundle of his work clothing tight against his body as he settled his hands onto Duo's sides to keep his balance. Behind them, the garage door clacked shut, Duo pausing just long enough to tuck the remote into the saddle bag under Heero's left leg, before gunning the throttle and bursting onto the street with the growling rumble of highly tuned steel. When they finally reached the station and Heero slid off the back of the bike, it felt odd. It wasn't until Duo sauntered through his unlocked apartment door as Heero was pulling on his own shoes that the oddness wore off. Then he was too busy sighing in frustration as Duo proceeded to parade around his meager abode, joking about his training manuals, technical journals, and EMS magazines littering almost every available counter and table space to worry about any sense of 'right' or 'odd'.

"Damn it, Maxwell," he snarled as he chased the braided man out the door and locked it behind them, "One of these days that big mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble."

"Better men than you have promised that, Yuy, and I'm still here," Duo taunted back, vanishing through the doorway to the stairwell.

As the heavy fire door slammed shut with a bang, Heero shook his head and sighed. "And he thinks *I'm* the challenge."

* * *

A hand waved from a table near the dart machines, grabbing their attention as they slipped through the front door of Jake's together. They'd had to park Duo's bike a little bit further down the sidewalk than they usually did, since there were already a couple of other motorcycles in their normal spot by the time they'd arrived at the bar some time later. Figuring that one of the two of them would probably overindulge, Heero opted to leave his motorcycle at home and simply hitch a ride with Duo, so they'd have one less thing to worry about when it came time to leave. Trowa nodded congenially at them as they slid onto empty stools at the table, and grabbed a couple of bottles from the full bucket waiting for them.

"Hey Tro. Good thing you beat us here. Looks like it's gonna be a busy night tonight," Duo observed, twisting off the cap of his beer as he eyed the crowd already gathered. It was still pretty early, and already the bar was almost full of college kids. "Where's Quatre? You could just about lose him with all these hulking kids hanging around."

"He's still on his way. I had to check on Cathy, so he stayed home while I dealt with her. Said he'd be along later," Trowa replied, waving down the waitress to bring them another bucket. By the time she managed to make it back through the crowd with his order, they should be just about finished with the one they were working on now.

A few minutes later, as Duo was attempting to bait him into challenging him to a game of darts for the next round of beer, a flash of platinum at the door caught Heero's attention. With a quick wave of his hand, he beckoned Zechs and Wufei over, and then fished a five out of his pocket. As the Arson investigator and Captain slid into two of the last three stools around the table, Heero tossed the five at Duo, who crowed with triumph and dashed off to the bar to get dollar bills and quarters for the juke box and the dart machine. Wufei spared a conspiratory grin for Heero as the braided driver vanished into the crowd.

"That should keep him occupied for all of three minutes," Wufei said over the buzz of the crowd.

"Three *blissful* minutes," Heero replied with a mock sigh of relief. Everyone chuckled.

Two minutes and fifty-three seconds later, Duo reappeared beside the table, shoving two dollars in Heero's hand before vanishing again in the direction of the juke box. Heero shook his head and then dutifully headed over to the machine and started up the game. By the time he'd gotten the correct game version selected, fed in all the money, and handed out the darts to Zechs and Wufei, loud strains of heavy metal music started blaring from the speakers. Duo popped up beside Heero a few moments later, snatching the last unclaimed set of darts from the Japanese man's hand.

Wufei won the first game, a variation called Cricket, where the object was to hit a selection of certain targets three times each before your opponents did. If they managed to hit either 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, or the Bull's-eye three times before you did, then each time after their third that they hit those targets they would score that many points. The person who managed to hit all of their targets three times each first, was the winner. Of course, the person who scored the most points by the end of the game could also claim to be the winner as well. As far as Duo was concerned, the only spot that mattered was the one who finished last, since that person had to buy the next round. And at eight dollars for a bucket of six bottles of beer, being the loser too often could get very expensive, very quickly.

Much to his chagrin, Heero lost the first game. He proceeded to make it up by winning, or at least coming in second, for the next three games in a row, which is when Quatre showed up and was forced to buy that round by default.

Six buckets later, a lot of the college crowd had cleared out, opting to head off to bars that stayed open later to finish up their drinking. Duo stared wistfully after Quatre who was dragging an unresisting Trowa off towards the bathroom, while Zechs and Wufei murmured quietly to each other, their heads close enough to just barely touch as they nursed what they claimed would be their final round of beer. Behind him, Heero practiced darts, not even bothering to keep score anymore as he simply tried to perfect his throw and still hit what he was aiming for, despite the fuzzy warmth filling him from the inside out.

Duo tore his gaze away from the doorway the other two vanished through, and turned in his seat, watching the frown of concentration on Heero's face.

"Your elbow's too high," Duo observed quietly, grinning with satisfaction as Heero tucked the opposing limb back down a little, and then tossed the dart for a perfect Bull's-eye.

"Arigato."

"No prob."

After watching Heero throw a few more rounds, Duo was snapped out of his silent contemplation by the soft clearing of a throat behind him. He turned, frowning a little at the secretive smirk hovering around Wufei's mouth before turning his attention to Zechs.

"It's late," the Captain said, "And if we stay too much longer, none of us will be in any shape to drive. We're going home."

"Which means you should, too, Maxwell. Before you're too drunk to walk, and Heero has to baby-sit your ass," Wufei added. "Again."

Rather than arguing, Duo simply grinned and flipped the investigator a one fingered salute before nodding in agreement. "I was actually thinking the same thing. I figured I'd wait around to make sure the lovebirds made it out of the bathroom alive, and got headed home too before I bailed. Does that meet with your approval, mother?" he asked sweetly, batting his eyes at Wufei and blowing him a kiss.

Wufei offered Heero a long suffering sigh before standing and shrugging on his jacket. "Either he's had too much, or not enough. I haven't decided which yet."

Heero tossed the last dart, turning to study Duo for a long moment. "Not enough. He passes out when he's had just enough," he offered at length.

Wufei snickered as Duo adopted an affronted expression. Before the braided man had a chance to launch into a dissertation on Heero's manners, Trowa and a slightly flushed Quatre reappeared and started shrugging on their jackets.

"I'm guessing it's time to call it a night?" Quatre observed with a grin, leaning heavily against Trowa out of habit.

"Maybe more so for some than for others," Duo replied with a grin for the support Trowa was giving the shorter paramedic.

Straightening to his full height, Quatre turned to face Duo full on, and then proceeded to flawlessly recite the alphabet backwards. As he finished with "A", he crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Duo challengingly before silently demanding Duo's keys with a single outstretched hand. After retrieving the prize from an unrepentant Duo, Quatre tossed them to Heero, adding, "Make sure he gets home in one piece, okay?"

Heero nodded obediently, watching as the two paramedics said their farewells and followed Zechs and Wufei out the door before tossing Duo's keys back to him, knowing that he wasn't nearly as intoxicated as he was pretending to be.

Grinning conspiratorially, Duo shrugged on his own jacket and followed in Heero's wake outside to the big black Harley that was by now sitting alone on the sidewalk.

"They don't know you as well as they think they do," Heero observed as he settled onto the bike behind Duo.

"Nah. Quatre just likes to worry. And for the record. he can only do that alphabet thing that well when he *is* drunk. Ask him to do it at work day after tomorrow, and he'll stutter like a school girl at an idol band concert," Duo replied, starting up the big bike with a low coughing rumble.

Heero shook his head and indulged in a chuckle, tightening his grip as Duo gunned the throttle and took off with a squeal of rubber on pavement. He must have been a little bit further gone on the alcohol than he'd thought, because it seemed like no time at all before Duo shut the engine down and rocked the motorcycle back onto its kickstand beside Wing in the parking garage of Heero's apartment building. Duo seemed to agree, for he refused to let Heero head up to his apartment without an escort, explaining that he was afraid the Japanese firefighter would pass out on the stairs or in the elevator before he was halfway there. Realizing that winning that fight was simply more trouble than it was worth, Heero finally agreed with a frustrated sigh, and allowed Duo to trail along behind him the whole way up. Perversely, he opted to take the stairs, just to prove he was better off than Duo thought.

Of course, the stairs gave Duo ample opportunity to stare at his ass with impunity. Maybe that was why as Heero turned to thank Duo for the ride home, the braided man suddenly leaned forward and brushed his lips over Heero's.

The shock of it stunned Heero into immobility, leaving him open for Duo to repeat the action, only more firmly the second time, one hand reaching up to cup Heero's cheek in his palm. That woke Heero from his paralysis, startling him into backing up, one hand on his door, the other resting against the warm place on his cheek that Duo had just touched. Dazed violet eyes blinked open to slowly focus on his own, a dawning look of shock and. fear awakening in the amethyst depths.

The fear, like Duo's touch, galvanized him into action, and before either of them could say a word, the door swung shut with a frighteningly final slam.


	22. Chapter 21

The harlot peered at him with wide, frightened eyes, backing away from his slow advance in a futile attempt to escape her fate. Her justice.

"I kn-know you," she stammered, eyes darting around the small kitchen for an escape route or a weapon. "Alexander, h-he-"

"Alexander," he said slowly, relishing the quick start of fear in her eyes as his too calm voice washed over her, "Is dead. I sent him to his judgment myself."

"Y-you're crazy," she breathed, finally succeeding in backing herself into a corner by the refrigerator in her tiny kitchen. A bright orange blaze of the setting sun lanced through the open curtain, illuminating the stark terror of her features. He found himself wondering if her little girl, that innocent child, had had mind enough to fear her own death as it loomed upon her, despite the Neonatal ICU's best efforts.

"Filth. You seduced him. Led him astray. Little wonder he tried to kill you."

The can of gasoline settled to the floor with a gentle metallic ping, the pungent scent of it filling his nostrils as he carefully unscrewed the cap.

"What. what are you d-doing?"

"Bringing God's judgment to a filthy aldultering harlot."

"I'm going to die," she breathed, knees going weak as he met her gaze without a trace of sanity in his eyes. "I know you. That party Alexander took me to. You were there with your family-"

Suddenly he was upon her, one hand bunched in the collar of her shirt, the other hand wrapped firmly around her neck. She gave a strangled little scream, eyes showing white all the way around the iris as she struggled to breathe, to fight back against his attack.

"Don't. You aren't fit to speak of them. You aren't fit to think of them. If I were you, I'd be more interested in repenting. Making it right by that beautiful little girl you murdered."

As quickly as he'd attacked, he backed off, dropping her to the floor like nothing more than a piece of trash. Picking up the can, he doused the area all around that corner of the kitchen, before kicking the still half full can over and watching the deep amber fluid spill over the linoleum with morbid fascination.

"Murder?" she managed to croak out, trying to struggle back to her feet. "He killed her. He tried to kill us both, but I-"

"You're as guilty as he. Children have no choice in the circumstances of their conceptions. but you did." He stood then, turning to face her, hands balling into tight fists as his eyes raked over her. "You knew he was married," he hissed urgently, "And still you seduced him. Because of that, he tried to kill you both. So you're as much to blame for the lamb's death as he was. And now it's time to face the consequences of your sins."

She caught another glimpse of those mad, mad eyes before he was upon her again, this time with both hands wrapped tightly around her throat. She grabbed his wrists, trying to pull his fingers away from where they dug sharply into her neck, even as her legs flailed and kicked.

"Don't fight it. It's the only way you can be clean again. Just let go. so when the fire comes, you'll be purified."

The world started to get black around the edges, shot through with red and white lightnings. Little by little, it slipped away, the black creeping in further and further until it felt like her body was floating in a thick pool, a pool that still smelled sharply of gasoline and blood.

With a final little hiccough, she went limp in his grasp, eyes finally slipping completely closed as a thin trail of saliva dribbled down her chin. To be safe, he held his grip for a little while longer, and then gently lowered her to the floor, laying her out. Had to make sure she wouldn't escape her own judgment now, didn't he?

As he backed away a step, his courage almost fled him; she looked so peaceful and helpless propped on the floor next to her fridge. She was breathing shallowly, and the fresh bruises at her throat combined with the almost faded ones from the original accident made her look frail and harmless.

As harmless as the baby had, wrapped in swaddling blankets and stuck in almost every limb with IVs and monitoring wires.

Cinders and ash. That was the only way to save her now. Cinders and ash, and hope for justice to cleanse her.

He double checked all the doors and windows at the front of the house, making sure the deadbolt was locked tightly and that he'd remembered to take the keys. Returning to the kitchen, he emptied the dregs of the can around her and then kicked it back to the center of the floor before crossing to the back door. He paused there, turning back to double check his handiwork, eyes straying to the still body slumped in the corner.

Cinders and ash. He'd make the world right again, one sinner at a time.

The matches came easily to his hand, one tearing away from the cardboard backing so quickly that it could have been magic. A quick jerk across the striker, and it flared to life in his fingers. It was beautiful, this fire. So destructive. It was the only thing with enough power to cleanse the world. Even if it meant destroying it.

The survivors could always rebuild. Noah did.

With a pang of regret, he flicked the match from his fingers into the pool of amber retribution. He had to hurry. The sun had almost set, and there were places he had to be.

No need to arouse suspicion yet. The world didn't always understand prophets.

He shut the door firmly behind him, locking it with the keys he'd taken once the fire within had taken root. As much as he wanted to stay and watch, he couldn't. Too suspicious. Besides, the windows were already starting to soot up in the kitchen; he wouldn't be able to see anything soon anyway.

Tucking the key under the back doormat, he stripped off his gloves and stuffed them in a pocket, and then jogged away, slipping through a couple of yards to the street a few blocks over where he'd parked his car.

He ran a hand through his hair quickly, smoothing it out with a secretive little smile. Cinders and ash. Even the sun agreed, painting the sky in fire and soot as the last rays of daylight slowly faded from sight.

With a quiet slam, he shut his door and started up his car. Promises to keep. He had promises to keep, and the rest of the world to purify. Couldn't keep them waiting.

* * *

What the fuck? What the fuck?! What the FUCK was THAT? Oh god, he- ...he... he. what the fuck... he- I- what...

Heero shook his head savagely, grimacing as he struggled to ignore the fierce pounding echoing throughout the sudden silence that fell over his empty apartment like a funeral shroud. It wasn't until he felt his hands balling up into tight fists that he suddenly realized that the racket about to drive him insane was nothing more than the slamming of his own heart in his ears and the rush of his own blood through a mind wound so tight, it felt like it would snap any instant. He balled the heels of his hands up against his temples and backed up, one slow step at a time until he ran out of room, coming up short against the wall at the end of the entry hallway.

His knees felt weak, and without understanding how he got there, he suddenly found himself sitting in a drawn up heap upon the floor, legs tensed as if he could push himself through the wall at his back simply by willing it. Down the darkened hallway, he could still make out the bulk of the door, looming accusatorily amidst the shadows, mocking him with its very stillness. Nothing else seemed to be focusing. It all sort of wavered in and out like staring at the world through three feet of murky water, and it was getting hard to even breathe. That's when he realized that he was hyperventilating.

He clenched his jaw shut tight, closed his eyes, and slowly counted to ten in Japanese to order his thoughts and calm his racing heart. After what felt like a small eternity, he was finally able to lift his head and stare blearily at the door again, while his mind kept repeating a litany of confusion.

Duo Maxwell had kissed him.

And he'd slammed the door in Duo's face, curled up on the floor and indulged in a panic attack. Because Duo Maxwell had kissed him.

Duo Maxwell had kissed him.

He was doing it again. Getting out of control. Heero closed his eyes, making a conscious effort to slow his breathing down once more before he passed out. He had more control than this, dammit!

Unconsciously, one hand crept up to gently touch the still warm spot on his cheek that Duo had cupped in his palm. His tongue darted out, moistening dry lips and catching the faintest hint of Duo upon them. The taste of Duo on his lips. Duo had kissed him. Duo had...

Heero blinked in confusion, his mouth curling into a bemused little shadow of a smile without his permission. What the hell was happening? His neat and ordered life had been swept away the day he walked into Engine House number 8, vanishing into a whirlwind of hyperactive driver, chestnut hair, and silk boxers.

God, those boxers.

Heero groaned and buried his head in his hands, ignoring the instant response of his body to thoughts of those boxers, that towel... the curtain of damp hair and the faint scent of vanilla and hazelnut.

Duo had kissed him. Now that the shock was slowly wearing off, now that his heart wasn't trying to dash itself to death against his ribs, now that he could breathe again, he had to admit...

Duo had kissed him... and it felt... Good.

Like nothing in his life had ever felt before. He stared bleakly down the darkened hallway, not even seeing the empty shadows of his tiny little apartment, but instead, remembering the last few weeks of his life. He was wrong; his neat and ordered little life didn't vanish when he walked into the firehouse that morning. His life had never been neat and ordered; he'd only imagined that it was.

Until that morn- afternoon, when it finally seemed to click into place as he sat across from Duo at his kitchen table trading small talk over a plate of home-cooked breakfast.

Shocked cobalt eyes stared dazedly back at him, tearing up a little as the light overhead flashed on when he palmed the switch. Blinking, Heero peered around himself in confusion. How did he end up in the bathroom?

God, what was happening to him?

Taking another deep, steadying breath, he stripped off the shirt he was wearing, balling it up and dropping it in the corner before moving on to the rest of his clothing. He ignored the minute tremble of his fingers as he flipped the water on and adjusted it to the coldest setting he could manage. His breath hissed out sharply between his teeth as he stepped under the spray and washed over him in hundreds of little needle pricks of ice. After a moment, all thoughts of Duo slipped from his mind, washed away by the chattering of his teeth and the loud protest of his muscles. Perversely, he forced himself to take a thorough shower, refusing to shut the water off and leave until every minute inch of him was clean.

Not that it helped. The moment he stepped from the curtained alcove, his gaze fell upon the wadded up bunch of jeans and shirt in the corner. Duo's jeans and shirt. The ones he lent Heero.

The pale fabric felt warm in his chilled fingers, and there under the stronger scent of smoke and beer and sweat, he could just detect a trace of hazelnut and vanilla. Duo.

He didn't even bother grabbing a towel as he stumbled out of the bathroom and over to his bed, collapsing across the surface and curling up with Duo's shirt clutched against his chest. God, he was pathetic. One stupid kiss, and it felt like his heart was slowly imploding within his chest. Okay, so technically it had been two kisses, but still. God, even his thoughts were starting to sound like Duo.

He lay there curled atop his damp blankets, ignoring the cold, ignoring everything but the faint traces of vanilla and the steady beat of his pulse. Wouldn't the old men at the Foundation just love to see him now, how weak he'd become. Then maybe they'd leave him alone and let him get on with his life.

No. Odds were, they'd simply have Duo eliminated, thinking to root the weakness out of him by killing it at the source.

That startled him into coherence again, the frigid fear of that thought chilling him in a way that not even the shower had been able to.

The Foundation. J already suspected that Duo was important to him. If the old fool figured out just how right he was, Duo would never be safe again. They'd kill him, just to hurt Heero.

Distantly, he recalled his odd dream, Odin saying that they would *_try_*, and that maddening little smirk of his that said louder than words how futile he thought their attempts would be. What if it... *_hadn't_* been a dream? Odin had claimed to know things. Things that must be important, otherwise he wouldn't have said anything.

Heero snorted, sitting up in a controlled explosion of motion. He must really be losing it if he was willing to accept the possibility that he hadn't been dreaming earlier. God, what a mess. How long had he been unconsciously waiting for this to happen, only to throw it away because he panicked? Panicked!

"Fuck."

Oddly, the starkness of his voice in the silence, the vulgarity of the word, soothed him. There was something Freudian in that, for sure.

With a heavy sigh, he buried his face in the shirt again, inhaling deeply. At least. At least with the way he panicked. Duo would hate him now. He'd be safe. The Foundation wouldn't bother him if he meant nothing to Heero. That should take all of ten minutes to demonstrate when they both showed up for work day after tomorrow. Duo wasn't known for repressing his opinions.

So if Duo was going to be safe now, why did it still hurt so damned much?

* * *

On the up side, he had to be alive. If he was dead, it obviously wouldn't feel like he'd just gone twelve rounds with a hopped up Mike Tyson. Duo groaned and tried to roll over, stopping before he'd actually managed to shift position when both his brain and body started screaming protests loud enough to wake the dead. Another lance of pain started hammering away at the back of his eyelids when he started to groan, making him freeze and hold his breath until the world quit bucking and threatening to throw him off. What the fuck had he done to himself last night?

It had been last night, right? He blinked open an eye, seeking the LCD on his stereo, only to discover that he'd apparently passed out, fully clothed, on his couch. Sunlight streaming through the windows bathed him in what would have been a nice warm glow, if it wasn't threatening to burn out his already abused retinas. He squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered quietly for a few minutes, forgoing his attempt to recall the previous night until he could at least count to one without wanting to rip out his brain to make the hurting stop.

It took him almost five minutes to slowly lever himself onto his back, throwing an arm over his eyes to protect them. Good God. He'd never gotten *this* drunk before, no matter what the guys thought about him.

The guys. There was something important about th-

Oh shit. He'd kissed Heero.

Ignoring the scream of his head and the protest of his aching muscles, he flung himself to his feet, stumbling for a vehicle or a phone, whichever came to hand quicker, to try and make this whole massive mess better. Somehow. He managed to make it to about his kitchen before both stomach and brain decided to conspire against him, swamping him with a wave of nausea that had him bent over his kitchen sink, clutching the counter desperately. He valiantly held on to the contents of his stomach for all of a second before the nausea won out with a series of massive heaves that stole his strength and what shreds of dignity he'd managed to cling to. Bloodshot violet eyes blinked painfully as he slowly slid to the floor, leaning heavily upon the cabinets. Turning his head slowly, he spotted his phone lying upon his kitchen table, less than a dozen paces away. Unfortunately, with his body as listless as tepid water, and his stomach threatening to tie itself into knots every time he moved, it may as well have been on the moon for all the good it did him.

Well, there was nothing left in his stomach but memories, so even if he did get sick again, he at least wouldn't make a mess. Besides, even if he did remember how bad it hurt to move by the time his hangover wore off, he'd deserve it for screwing up that bad last night. With agonizing slowness, he shifted onto his hands and knees and began the arduously long crawl to the table. It felt like forever before his shaking fingers reaching over his head finally closed around the smooth, cold plastic handset of his cordless phone, although the kitchen clock claimed that it all of a quarter till seven in the morning. He couldn't honestly say if it was the hangover or sheer nervousness that had his hands trembling so badly that he had to dial Heero's number six times before getting it right, but he'd never been so grateful, nor so terrified, to hear the ringing tone before in his life.

One ring. Two. Heero never slept in, but he rarely went anywhere on his days off. He should pick up any second now. Fourth ring. There! He was answe-

"I'm not home right now. Leave a message," Heero's curt voice informed with an electronic whine, followed closely by a long, low tone.

"Heero," Duo croaked, blinking a little as he heard how crackly his own voice was, "Pick up. We need to talk."

A long pause, but no one came to pick up the phone.

"Please, Heero. I don't want to do this over an answering machine. Don't do this. Pick up the phone. I know you're there, Heero. You never go anywhere. Pick up the phone. Please? Come on Heero, we need to talk so pick up the pho-"

He was cut off by another low tone as the answering machine hung up.

It wasn't until the discordant tone of the off-the-hook signal began screaming in his ear that Duo realized he was staring blankly into space with the phone still pressed tightly to his ear. Heero hadn't answered.

Somehow he found himself swaying unsteadily on his feet, stumbling half-dead down the hallway to his room to throw on clothes that didn't reek of beer and smoke and vomit. Heero didn't answer the phone, but he'd damn well answer his door, if Duo had to pick the lock. He hoped. But first, first he'd need clean clothes, and a cup of extra strong coffee to wake up.

Out of habit, once he'd dressed, he bypassed to the front door for the paper on his way to the kitchen to make his coffee. A sack that had been leaning against the door fell inwards against his sock clad toes as the door swung open. With a perplexed frown, he stooped, catching up both sack and paper, before shutting the door and peering inside. The paper slipped from his fingers as he reached into the sack and withdrew a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and socks, all neatly folded.

It was probably a function of the hangover, or lingering vestiges of his drunkenness, but the whole world seemed to swim by as if he were submerged under a half meter of water. Distantly, he was aware that he'd tied the right boot on a little too tight, while the left was just a touch too loose. He didn't even realize that he'd grabbed up the bundle of clothing again, the clothes that he'd lent Heero the night before, until he set them down in the passenger seat of the Camaro before starting up the big muscle car. Foregoing his coffee, he backed his car out of the garage and took off for the cross town freeway, streets already getting cluttered with early morning rush hour traffic. Although the clock in the CD player claimed it took no more than the normal 15 minutes it usually did, Duo could have sworn that the drive to Heero's apartment dragged on forever, making him fret and swear at the pace of the traffic. What seemed like an eternity later, the dark maw of the parking garage loomed up and swallowed him whole, delivering him to an empty space beside Heero's own old white truck. Wing sat patiently amidst the other motorcycles near the handicapped spaces by the elevator and stairwell.

Heero had to be home.

Out of some perverse need to punish himself, Duo opted for the stairs over the elevator, swallowing back another wave of headache induced nausea by the time he made it to Heero's floor. Common sense took over for a moment, and he leaned against the stairwell wall to catch his breath and steady his nerves before confronting the other man. After all, it wouldn't do much to help his case if he managed to make it all the way here, only to puke on Heero's shoes as soon as he opened the door. Once the world steadied around himself again, he slipped into the hall and up to the now familiar door, knuckles rapping against the wood with more confidence than Duo felt inside. After a few moments, he knocked a little bit more forcefully, one foot scuffing against the toes of the other out of nervousness. When there was still no answer, he balled his fist up and pounded once or twice.

"Come on, Heero. Answer your damned door before I break it down. We need to talk, dammit!"

Only silence greeted him. With a frustrated growl, Duo fished in his pocket for a slim black case, pulling out a pair of slender steel picks which he applied to the lock in the door. A few seconds later, the knob turned and swung in with a satisfying click, and the picks and case were slid back into a pocket as Duo slipped inside.

There was a thick blanket of silence resting over the darkened hallway, disturbed only by the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Duo shut the door behind him and crept towards the living room with his heart in his throat. There was something ominous about the quiet, lacking even the almost subliminal feel of habitation that came when there was another human present.

"Heero? I told you I'd get in. Please don't be this way. I just want to talk, okay?" he called softly.

The living room proved to be empty, magazines and books neatly stacked or packed into boxes beside the rather austere couch, laptop computer missing from the desk. The kitchen was equally as empty, a cup of thick, greasy black coffee sitting on the counter, ice cold to the touch.

"Heero?" Duo called again, voice low and uncertain as he crept towards the bedroom, poking his head around the doorway. The bathroom to his left was empty, walls lacking even condensation from a morning shower, and towels all neatly folded and stacked in a box beside the doorway. The bed itself was made with the same military precision as Heero made his bed at work, although it was covered with small stacks of equally precisely folded clothing, and a pair of duffel bags. The open closet door revealed even more emptiness, bare even of hangers, save for three neatly pressed uniforms waiting patiently. Suddenly Duo began to wonder if Heero would even be in to work the next morning, or if he'd simply vanish like a thought in the wind.

"Fuck you, Yuy. I'm not letting you get away this easy," Duo growled, stomping into the living room to settle onto the couch and await Heero's return. Even if the Japanese man was planning on packing up and vanishing, he'd have to come back for his stuff. Duo would just wait him out. Even if it meant staying put all day.

* * *

"Good morning, love," a soothingly deep voice greeted from the doorway, tearing Wufei's attention away from the report Noin had dropped off to him the afternoon before. He twisted a little in his seat, a small smile gracing his lips as Zechs wandered in clad in nothing more than a loose pair of drawstring pants and a damp towel draped over his shoulders. "Still working on that report?"

A soft sound of agreement slipped from the investigator's lips as Wufei settled his chin in his hand and watched Zechs cross to the coffee maker with half lidded eyes. There were some mornings that he almost hated the necessity of work. especially morning when Zechs came wandering in looking so damned good. Okay, so most mornings.

The pure strength of his attraction to the tall blonde frightened Wufei sometimes, seizing him so suddenly, it stole even his ability to think or breathe. With a regretful sigh, he forced himself to turn back to the paperwork, knowing that if he gave in to his thoughts, they'd both be late for work.

"Another arson-homicide. Noin wanted me to look over it for correlations to the cases I'm working on."

"Another one? I didn't hear about this one," Zechs commented with faint surprise as he sidled up behind Wufei, dropping a hand on his shoulder as he peered down at the reports from above.

"That's because it happened while we were all at Jake's two nights ago. That's why Noin got this one instead of me; she was the one on call," Wufei replied, absently reaching up with his free hand to rest it atop Zechs'.

"So have you found anything yet?"

With a frustrated sigh, Wufei straightened, settling back against the chair and the comforting presence of Zechs behind him. "Too soon to tell, but my gut says yes. There were signs of a struggle in the unburned portions of the house, and a considerable amount of gas used, especially in the kitchen where the victim was found. The body itself was too badly burned to get much from it yet, but the coroner is working on it."

Eyes narrowing with deep though, Zechs stooped down a little to examine the report, frowning suddenly. "The name of the victim sounds familiar," he commented slowly, trying to place it.

"Remember that sociopath that tried to kill himself and his mistress a while ago by running their SUV into a concrete abutment at 85 miles an hour or so? She ended up being pregnant, and the hospital had to do an emergency C-section?" Wufei replied.

"That one. It was Heero's first day. The big yellow Navigator. Yes, we were on that one; I remember it. Didn't the guy die?" Zechs asked.

"In the hospital. Burned up in a deliberately set fire," was the grim response.

"I remember that one, too," Zechs murmured darkly, although an atavistic flash of heat raced through him as he recalled trying to 'relax' Wufei in the wee hours of that morning. "This is the woman," he guessed.

"That's why Noin wanted me to look at it. Seemed to big a coincidence," Wufei agreed.

"I can almost understand someone wanting to kill him, but why her?" Zechs asked, taking a sip of his coffee before setting the cup on the table and picking up the sheaf of papers to rifle through for more information.

Reaching a hand up to massage his temples, Wufei sighed in defeat. "I don't know yet. I can only *_guess_* that it has something to do with the little girl. She didn't survive, and I'm. guessing that it has something to do with retribution. There isn't quite enough non-circumstantial evidence to even say the two cases are definitely connected." He gritted his teeth. It hurt his pride to admit that he didn't know for sure.

"Both murdered by fire, and that's not enough evidence?" Zechs asked, his voice heavy with disbelief.

"Unfortunately, as far as the D.A. is concerned, until there's another body on the ground, all we have is a coincidence, not a serial arsonist. But since there's nothing left connected to those two people, even if we do end up with another victim, there's going to have to be some pretty compelling similarities before the D.A. will help us pursue this. If we *do* have a serial arsonist on our hands, out to make a point of some kind, then it may take another few victims before the similarities are pronounced enough to be that compelling," Wufei replied bitterly. "The worst part is. I don't think that's going to take too long. My gut tells me that this is just the tip of the iceberg. That I'm probably already missing cases that tie in."

Zechs set the papers back on the table, bending down to wrap his arms around Wufei's shoulders for a long moment. "I don't like the thought of the two of you wading through that many bodies," he admitted softly. "You never ruled out that the fire that killed all those homeless drug addicts and the one that almost got Duo and Heero weren't related. What if this psycho starts trying for the investigators?"

"And what if he takes another shot at you and your crew?" Wufei replied just as quietly. "By the time Noin and I get called in, the damage is done. There's no reason for us to take stupid risks. Besides, she and I can go armed if we want. You."

"There's no reason for me to take stupid risks, either," Zechs interrupted. "Calculated, maybe, but Duo and Heero know that, too. Forewarned is forearmed, and we're watching out more carefully now. We won't be careless with our lives."

"Hn. Good. I." Wufei's voice trailed off and he pulled away from Zechs to walk briskly into the small office off of the living room, returning with a thick folder. As he settled back into his chair, he pulled out another sheaf of papers and pictures, rifling through them. "The fire that killed all those homeless drug addicts. You're right, I'd never connected it to the warehouse fire. but there might be a connection between these two and that fire."

"A connection? Like what?"

"Like a vigilante, trying to purify the wicked of the world with fire," was Wufei's ominous reply.


	23. Chapter 22

While Zechs sat at the table, calmly sipping a cup of coffee while perusing the paper, Quatre cast a worried eye at the clock. It was already 6:50 am, and neither Duo nor Heero had shown up for work yet. While Duo was known to cut it close every once in a great while, he'd never cut it this close before, and Heero had never been later than 6:35 before. Something was wrong. Unfortunately, when he'd tried calling both of them ten minutes ago, neither one had answered.

The familiar deep rumble of a highly tuned muscle car broke him from his fretting contemplation, and a small, relieved, smile came to his lips. A moment after the engine cut out, Duo burst through the door, looking unusually rumpled, with little tendrils flying out every which way from under his cap, and what Quatre could only describe as a panicked look on his face as he peered around the kitchen quickly.

"Duo? Are you all right?" Quatre asked in surprise.

"Has Heero come in yet? I didn't see his truck."

Blinking, Quatre shook his head negatively, eyes widening in alarm as Duo seemed to deflate before his very eyes. Before Quatre could repeat his earlier inquiry, Duo slipped past, mumbling an apology to Zechs for running late. The door to the bay drifted shut behind the braided driver, and through the window, he could be seen beginning his morning checks with his usual efficiency, although much more subdued than usual.

"That was odd," Zechs commented, one brow quirked up as he glanced towards the rig bay. Quatre could only nod mutely in agreement.

Before he could turn to follow Duo out into the bay and corner the other man to demand answers, the back door swung open again, admitting an even more amazing sight. Heero stood framed in the doorway, dressed in jeans, a rumpled t-shirt, with a backpack slung over his shoulder, and a wary, darting look in his eyes as he glanced around the kitchen. As quickly as Quatre noticed the furtiveness of that look, it vanished, replaced by a cool, reserved regard that was far more aloof than anything Quatre had ever seen upon the Japanese firefighter's face before.

"My apologies for my tardiness, Captain Merquise. I'll grab a shower and be dressed in just a few minutes," he said quietly, offering no explanation as he crossed the kitchen into the bunkroom, and then vanished into the bathroom beyond.

Zechs shot a look at Quatre, jaw hanging open slightly, with his coffee cup raised halfway to his lips as he shared a dumbfounded moment with the blond paramedic. Turning his attention firmly to his cup, he slowly lowered it to the table and took a deep breath before addressing Quatre once more.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, please, but I didn't just see Heero Yuy slip past, out of uniform, unshowered, after apparently walking to work, at five till seven in the morning, did I?"

"Um," Quatre said, biting his lower lip, "I think you did, actually."

"Then I stand corrected. *That* was odd."

"I could go find out what's go-" Quatre started to offer, already rising to head into the bay, only to be halted by Zechs' upraised hand.

"I wouldn't. Whatever is going on is between them. It's not our concern, and it's safer to stay out of the line of fire," Zechs warned ominously, before returning his attention to the newspaper.

A few minutes later, Trowa walked into the kitchen from the bay, followed closely by Duo who uncharacteristically hovered uncertainly near the office door before joining them all at the kitchen table.

"Coffee, Duo?" Quatre offered with a cheer he didn't totally feel, looking at the oddly apathetic firefighter.

"No. Thank you."

"Where's Heero?" Trowa wondered out loud, pouring himself a cup before sitting beside Quatre.

"In the shower. He just walked in a few minutes ago. Said he had to shower and toss on a uniform, and then he'd be right out," Zechs replied, to all outward appearances as unconcerned as if he'd just explained that the sky was blue because of the angle of the earth's curvature. He didn't, however, miss Duo's sudden start of surprise, and the braided man's newfound interest in the bunkroom door.

Duo stood, moving to the door to peer out into the parking lot. With a frown, he turned back to the table, though didn't return to his seat, opting to pace awkwardly to the coffeepot. "He must have walked in to work today," he observed far too casually as he poured a cup. The only thing preventing Duo from not marching into that bathroom and demanding that Heero actually talk to him, was the less than positive reception he was sure he'd receive by cornering the man in so vulnerable a position.

Plus, he wasn't honestly sure he trusted himself around a naked Heero.

In the bunkroom, the bathroom door swung open, and Heero slipped out, hair still slightly damp, but as neatly combed as it ever was, and a fresh, pressed uniform precisely in place. He turned and dropped his backpack and towel upon his usual bunk, before heading for the door into the kitchen - where he came face to face with Duo.

Prussian blue eyes swung negligently around the braided man, fixing on the others for a bare instant each before finally coming to a rest on Zechs.

"Sorry I was running late. I'll go check my gear."

He didn't even give Zechs a chance to respond to that before side-stepping Duo and vanishing out into the bay. As the door shut behind him with a soft 'whuf', Heero allowed himself a tiny frustrated sigh, but only because the sound of the traffic on the street beyond the open bay door would drown it out. Even fully clothed in a uniform that looked like it had been pulled from the bottom of a clothes pile, pulled on with great haste, and without the use of a mirror, with his braid all but half undone and shoved just as quickly under his cap, Duo could still make his blood heat in uncomfortable ways. Especially with that half terrified, half angry look flashing in those deep blue-violet eyes like fire on still water.

He retrieved his gear from its little niche along the wall, dropping it beside his door on the rig and sorting it out to be ready for their first call. As he was stepping up to reach in for the small bit of medical equipment they carried, to check it over, the door to the kitchen drifted shut again. He had to consciously force himself to not look behind him out of habit, knowing who would be there. God, but it was so hard.

"We need to talk."

"We do? I don't know what we'd 'need' to talk about, Maxwell," he replied, keeping his voice even and expressionless.

"Bullshit. You weren't that drunk," Duo growled, moving around to his other side in an effort to force Heero to look at him.

Heero simply pulled the aid bag down from the rig, turning to set it along one of the running boards to check, and not so incidentally, turning his back on Duo. "Neither were you." Behind him, he heard Duo sigh explosively in frustration. 'Go away, Duo. God, just go away. Can't you see how much this is killing me inside? There won't be anything left of me by the time I've made it safe enough for you,' he thought to himself desperately, clenching his jaw to keep from betraying his inner thoughts.

"Where the fuck were you yesterday? You never came home, not even last night."

Heero shot a surprised look at Duo over his shoulder, scowling as he returned his attention back to the bag. "You were waiting for me."

"All fucking day, and all fucking night. I only gave up to run home and grab a uniform to change into, and I was still almost late."

"I don't recall hiring a baby-sitter," Heero replied coolly, zipping the bag back up and climbing up into the rig to put it away.

Duo jerked as if slapped, stepping back a pace as Heero calmly began hooking his mask up to his SCBA tank and checking the air level in it.

"No, I guess you didn't," he replied quietly, all his bluster fleeing him. He opened his mouth to continue, but whatever he may have been about to say was swallowed up by the screaming tones of the speaker, as Dispatch announced a general alarm for their section. Instantly setting their discussion aside, Heero hopped down and started shrugging into his gear, even as Duo raced for the map to double check his route.

"...Caller states that her kitchen is on fire, and she is unable to escape her home because she only has one leg."

Heero swore creatively in Japanese as his fingers flew over the snaps and clasps of his coat. Confirmed victim trapped. Through the opposite open door, he saw his Captain shrugging into his own gear, and their eyes met. No playing around on this one. As Duo zipped past him, Heero hopped back into the rig, flipping his hood off to pull on his mask, even as he slammed his door shut with his free hand. By the time Engine 8 was rolling past the doors, Heero had already pulled his hood back up, donned his helmet, and was cinching down the chin strap. With a quick twist, he disengaged the regulator from his mask to breath outside air until they reached the scene. Using the momentum of one of Duo's trademarked quick turns, Heero jerked his tank out of its cradle in his seat and reached behind him to twist on the valve. A moment later, he'd pulled on his gloves and freed his favorite pick headed axe from its clamps just under his legs. With his radio neatly dropped into the front pocket of his coat after being turned on, Heero settled back a little into his seat and relaxed as best he could until they arrived on the scene, conserving his strength.

Smoke poured from the eves of the house that Engine 8 shuttered to a halt before, the front window bowing outward ominously even as Heero hopped out. Tucking the axe against his side, he reached up with his empty hand, catching a loop of the hose from the bed overhead and pulling it out to settle onto his shoulder. As Zechs came around to that side of the rig to grab the nozzle, Heero took off at a steady jog, laying out the length of hose in a looping diagonal towards the house. As soon as all the kinks and folds were laid out, he jogged back to Zechs' side, taking position beside the front door. With a nod from his captain, Heero brought the flat part of the axe head around in a sharp arch into the door just at the latch level, which popped inward with a satisfying crash. Even as the metal of tool met the wood of the door, Duo had opened up the lever on the engine pump, flooding their hose with water to douse the jet of flame and smoke that came rushing from the now opened doorway.

Dropping the axe beside the door, Heero took up the hose just behind Zechs and they crept into the hazy cherry gloom of the smoke filled house, pausing only briefly to douse the occasional spurt of flame that ventured too near. As they passed down a small hallway that ended in a brighter red glare, Heero noticed the arch of an open doorway to their left. Tapping Zechs on the shoulder, he indicated that he was going to duck in for a quick search for their victim before joining Zechs on the hose again. The platinum haired captain gave him a curt nod before pressing onward.

Pausing just a second to clip his search line around the hose itself, Heero reached out and grabbed the wall, using it as a guide into the other room. The smoke wasn't as thick here, only down to within a foot or two of the floor, and white rather than thick and black. The faint glow of the morning sun filtered in through a wide picture window, casting a soft white radiance throughout the room. Keeping his left hand on either the wall, or a sturdy piece of furniture against the wall, Heero steadily made his way around the room, reaching as far out into the center as he could without losing his reference point. Over the hiss of water and fire, he could hear the clamor on the radio that signaled the arrival of other companies, laying hose and preparing to join in the search.

His questing hand came across a soft bundle that flinched away at his touch and moaned weakly. With a start, Heero let go of the wall and reached out with both hands, confirming that he'd found a victim, lying in a heap beside what felt like a couch. He radioed out quickly that he'd found the victim, and what his location was, so that the RIT and medical teams would be ready and waiting for him when he dragged the body out. After waiting a moment to make sure he'd been heard, he got a firm grab on the dead weight of the obviously unconscious person, and began following his search line back out to the hose, and then the doorway beyond. Even as he backed out into sunlight, hands dove in from all sides to relieve him of his burden and begin working on her. Other hands started trying to pry his gear from him, but he batted them off quickly, shouting over his regulator that he had to rejoin his captain inside. The hands released him, and he dropped back to his knees, crawling back into the gloom and gathering his search line up again as he passed.

After a few disorienting moments of crawling through the smoke, Heero came to where he'd left Zechs' side, and unhooked his search line, stuffing it into his pocket before grabbing the hose to follow it further into the house. In his haste to find the victim before, he'd barely registered the discomfort of crawling over various materials and small obstacles, what felt like dozens, maybe hundreds of small knick knacks littering the hallway and every inch of floor he within his reach. Now, with the concern of the trapped victim off of his mind, he started noticing just how much junk seemed to clutter the tiny space of the home, as if he'd just crawled into a cramped little Chinese curio shop that had just experienced an earthquake.

Pottery and glass cracked and shattered under his gloved hands and padded knees, making him thankful for the thickness of his bunkers, while the larger items of wood and metal and other unidentifiable bits pressed in on him from all sides, occasionally catching on the hose of his SCBA tank, or the toe of his boot as he crawled. He regretted the damage he was probably doing to this woman's belongings, but from the feel of the pure press of everything, it seemed like she had plenty to spare.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally made out the bulk of Zechs against the red glare of the kitchen. The older man was kneeling up, steadily working his way from left to right, extinguishing the blaze, oblivious to the oppressive pressure of heat and smoke banking down from above. Heero maneuvered into place behind him, taking up the hose and relieving him of some of the back pressure, giving Zechs more range and freedom of motion. Shuffling inch by inch further, they worked their way deeper into the kitchen, reflexively ducking now and then as bits of the drop ceiling showered down upon them, broken up by the heat of the fire and the weight of the water. Heero reached behind him, giving the hose a massive yank as it seemed to snag on something. He thought he heard a muffled curse ring down the hallway as the hose suddenly advanced a few more feet, and an unconscious smirk broke over his features at the thought that he may have just either dumped some poor schmuck on his ass, or scared their liver into their throat.

Ahead of him, Zechs shifted another few inches forward and to one side, putting Heero up against what seemed to be a wall, before opening up the hose again. Water cascaded over countertops and walls, bouncing off the ceiling and raining down over them both. A brief tingle flashed through his bunker coat and into his shoulder, his only warning before a brilliant blue white flash erupted from right behind him, tossing him into Zechs, and both of them into a tumble across the floor for a moment. Heero shook his head, sparing the arcing electric stove behind them a fierce scowl before rising back to his knees and pulling Zechs up with an apologetic shout. A moment later, the snap and scream of the arcing electricity suddenly died as someone outside finally found, and pulled off, the power meter, cutting the power to the house. Heero made a quick mental note to thank whoever was in charge of cutting power for not being quicker and almost getting he and his captain fried. There were a few gallons of nice, ice cold water in the cooler on Engine 8 with that person's name written all over it.

But that would have to wait until later. Now, they had a fire to concentrate on.

* * *

Zechs leaned tiredly against the side of the rig beside Heero, who was trying not to smirk as they watched the rookie from Truck 2 try to wring out the tail of his shirt, teeth chattering from the icy water still soaking into his clothes. Not far off, Hilde was laughing as she helped Duo uncouple hose.

"I told you that you had to be quicker, didn't I?" the female firefighter called, still giggling even as she tossed a wink towards Heero.

"Did you have to use the whole five gallons?" Zechs asked quietly, bending down towards Heero to be heard over the dull roar of all the powerful diesel engines running around them.

Heero simply turned a bland look up at his captain, absently rotating the shoulder that he'd taken the shock of the arcing stove through. Zechs chuckled.

"Point taken," Zechs finally murmured after draining the cup he'd been nursing in one long swallow.

Heero mirrored the action and then stood to join Hilde and Duo in reloading all their hose on top of Engine 8. With so many willing hands, the clean up was accomplished quickly, and with the home's owner already on her way to the hospital, courtesy of Trowa, Quatre and Medic 6, there wasn't anything left for Engine 8 and her crew to do once the last hose was replaced. With a final check in with their Battalion Chief, Zechs returned to Engine 8 with orders to head back to quarters.

The ride back was oddly quiet, with no conversation, nor even Duo's usual post-fire song. Heero hopped out to direct traffic as Duo backed the rig into the bay, and by the time he walked inside, the door to the kitchen was already shutting behind Duo. Zechs removed his bunkers, laying them out to dry a little so they'd be ready for their next run, before he followed the violet-eyed driver off towards the waiting showers and a clean uniform.

Heero busied himself with changing out the air bottle on his SCBA tank, making sure everything was put away, and making sure his gear was also laying out to dry for their next call, but having done much of that already before leaving the fire scene, it didn't take as long as the Japanese firefighter could have wished. With a defeated sigh, he finally headed off towards the bunkroom via the kitchen.

The scent of cooking bacon and eggs, and the heavier smell of waffles filled the air as he slipped through the door. Surprised, he paused in the doorway, watching Wufei and Noin as they bustled about the kitchen preparing a breakfast feast in something only slightly less graceful than Duo's normal orchestrated chaos.

"Did you forget that it's Sunday?" Wufei asked mildly as he tended the skillets on the stove, tossing Heero an amused look.

"Guess so," Heero mumbled, eyeing Noin warily.

"We heard you guys go out this morning and decided to surprise you. Hi, I'm Noin. I'm in Investigations with *him* now," she said cheerfully, motioning towards Wufei with a small wink and a feigned sour tone of voice before continuing sarcastically, "And here I thought they'd never be able to find anyone to replace the greatness that was Wufei."

"Did you say something, Inspector Noin? I couldn't hear you over the yapping of small dogs," Wufei shot back, nonplussed as he divided his attention between the pans.

Noin laughed good-naturedly, grinning at Zechs who had appeared in the doorway to the bunkroom, his damp hair hanging in tendrils around his face, and uniform shirt over his T-shirt untucked and unbuttoned.

"Are they at it again?" Zechs asked in a bored voice as he glanced at Heero.

Heero blinked, caught off guard by the sudden stab of longing that this easy, close-knit life could really be his. If only. He shook his head sharply, expression shuttering closed as he slipped past Zechs, murmuring that he needed a shower.

"Better get one fast, then. Before Duo uses all the hot water," Zechs replied, masking his own surprise at the swift progression of emotion and suppression across Heero's features.

Pausing at his locker, Heero withdrew the last clean uniform he'd stored there, fussing absently with the hanger before catching up his towel on his bed. He realized that all he was doing was delaying the inevitable so with a deep sigh, he cracked open the door to the bathroom and crept inside.

Condensation clung to the walls, and a thin haze of steam filled the air, fogging up the mirrors over the sinks. Heero set his clothing and towel on the counter, listening to the soft hiss of water striking the tiles from within the shower, surprised to not hear Duo humming as was his wont. Like the impulse to pick at a scab, he couldn't stop himself from leaning over to peek through the doorway into the shower, eyes raking over Duo painfully. The sight that greeted him, however, put a stranglehold on his heart within his chest, squeezing it tightly and choking the breath from him.

Duo stood under the spray, hands flat against the wall in front of him, arms braced as if that was the only thing keeping him upright under the water. His head hung down between his shoulders, hair a dark curtain of tepid straggles, looking much thinner when wet and unbound. The bottles of shampoo and conditioner lay forgotten, kicked over on the floor behind him at the edge of the cascading spray, while the crumpled wad of washcloth and soap lay discarded against the wall below Duo as if he'd dropped it and lacked even the ambition to lean down to pick it up again.

For several long moments, both men stood frozen, Duo by apathy, Heero by the sudden pain seizing his heart, each lost in their own thoughts. Heero bit his lower lip hard, caught between his nearly overwhelming urge to keep Duo safe by continuing to push him away, and the equally insistent urge to gather the long-haired man into his arms and...

The pain of his teeth against his lip sharpened suddenly as he slowly became aware of how erotic Duo looked standing under the torrent of water, how his protective instincts rose up and waged a losing battle against the flush of heat filling him from his groin up. He shut his eyes tightly and drew back, falling back against the wall behind him and panting quietly to get his breath back. The persistent pressure of his too-tight slacks didn't slacken, however, grew more pronounced, in fact, by the very effort he was expending to regain his fled composure. Swallowing hard against the lump lodged at the base of his throat, he pushed away from the wall and peeked around the doorway again.

Duo hadn't moved, and the thin suds that had been clinging to the ends of his hair before had long since washed away down the drain. The hot water wouldn't last forever; the slight lessening of steam from the spray attested to that. If Duo didn't manage to get his hair conditioned before he ran out of water, Heero knew he'd never be able to wrestle that unwieldy mane of his into any semblance of order.

A voice within him that sounded suspiciously like that of the Soldier's clamored about his plan to keep Duo safe, how Heero was supposed to be pushing the long-haired man *away*, not undressing to join him in the *shower*. His fingers paused in their task of unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes raking over Duo's naked form again, lingering here and there like a critic admiring a fine piece of art. 'But if I'm with him all the time, they'll never be able to get at him,' he reasoned silently. 'I can protect him better if I keep him near me. If he'll have me now.'

He didn't care how contrived it sounded. He was getting so tired of fighting his emotions on this, of letting every scrap of happiness slip through his fingers like sand. He didn't deserve it, by any stretch of his imagination, but that was the nature of humankind: to strive for what they did not have, could not attain. And, dammit, he wanted this!

Odin had been right. He loved Duo.

* * *

The water was getting cooler. Duo sighed quietly, not even caring as he concentrated on watching the water swirl past his toes, trying with everything within him to ignore the ache of emptiness in his chest.

God, what had he been *thinking*? That was the problem. He hadn't been thinking. He couldn't have been, otherwise, he'd have never kissed Heero two nights ago. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Of course, that was probably the beer talking.

It had just seemed like everything had led up to that moment, one event right after the other in a natural progression that almost seemed to force Duo to take the risk, to dare to brush his lips over Heero's. The way Heero had so carefully watched over him as he slept, the soothing dreamy lassitude that had overtaken them both as they simply enjoyed each other's company over 'breakfast', the easy banter they'd slipped into at the bar, and unconscious trust each showed to the other. He'd never seen Heero at such ease before, and it hadn't taken long for him to realize that that rare glimpse had only made the Japanese man that much more desirable.

He'd listened to that nagging little voice that dared him to risk it all. And he lost. He'd seen the fear in Heero's deep blue eyes an instant before the door crashed closed, dropping his world out from under him. Duo remembered standing there for more than ten minutes, totally at a loss for the first time in his life. He'd been expecting a lot of different things, but fear hadn't been one of them. Not from Heero. Not his superstar.

Most of the rest of that night was still a blur. He'd obviously gotten very drunk, although where, he wasn't sure, since both Camaro and Harley were safely stowed in the garage the next morning, though there were no empty bottles or cans to be found. Purest dumb luck, then.

At least he woke up alone. It's all he deserved after screwing up that bad. Besides, that's all his life would have needed, the complication of a one night pity stand.

Then again, it probably wouldn't have complicated anything. It didn't look like there was anything left between them to complicate. At least, if the cool, dismissive regard Heero had favored him with thus far was any indicator.

Stupid little voice. He'd never listen to it again. It had already cost him the most important friendship he'd ever had.

He should probably get around to finishing up in the shower before he ran out of lukewarm water. It just didn't seem worth the effort, though.

The sizzle hiss of water striking the tiles masked the silent slap of bare feet slipping up behind him, and he'd closed his eyes tightly as he'd wallowed in his self-recrimination, so he didn't even see the shadow that fell over him for a moment. All he knew was that one second he was alone, and in the next, gentle fingers were gathering up the heavy fall of his hair, working a handful of his favorite sweet smelling conditioner into it.

He didn't even think, spinning around and letting loose a purely reflexive punch into the intruder. Heero slowly turned back towards him, not backing up as he warily met his startled gaze and continued to absently comb his fingers through the tumble of hair held carefully in his hands.

"H-Heero?" Duo stammered, backing up a pace, the hand that he'd struck Heero with twisted behind him like an errant child. "W-what do you-"

"I'm sorry," Heero said quietly, dropping his gaze to study his toes intently, though not relinquishing the handful of Duo's hair he'd gathered up.

"What?" Duo replied weakly, falling back another half-step, pressing up against the wall behind him to keep his feet, even as surprise threatened to steal his footing.

Heero's prussian gaze darted back up to Duo's face, tracing the smooth planes and elfin curves avidly, drinking in the sight as if it would be his last chance. With a regretful sigh, Heero finally released Duo, dropping his hands to his sides and staring back down at the splash of water collecting around their feet. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

Duo blinked in confusion and shock, shaking his head to clear the water dripping into his eyes as if it was responsible for what he was assuming had to be a hallucination. Taking Duo's silence as a rejection, Heero half turned away to leave, then darted a look back up at Duo's face. The confusion he read there steeled him, and he pressed forward, just brushing his lips over Duo's.

Reflexively, Duo's hands came up, cupping around Heero's face and holding him in place when the Japanese man made to draw back. He returned the kiss, darting his tongue between parted lips to lick softly at Heero's lower lip, daring to taste him before this too vanished.

"Heero?" he murmured as he finally withdrew, but only far enough to take in all of Heero's slack features.

Prussian eyes blinked lazily open, fixing upon Duo as a wave of color rose in Heero's cheeks. One hand crept up tentatively, resting upon the flat plane of Duo's chest, fluttering at the contact, before finally settling in a feather soft caress. He swallowed, gathering his courage. "I made a mistake," he admitted slowly. "I was... scared."

"I'm sorry, Heero. I never should have-"

Heero silenced Duo with another kiss, parting his lips invitingly, an invitation that Duo quickly took advantage of. The Japanese man shifted forward, pressing Duo up against the wall and bringing their bodies close, one long line of fire between them as damp skin finally kissed damp skin. He could feel the heated flesh of Duo's arousal stirring against his thigh as the shock finally wore off, making him groan quietly into Duo's lips. When they finally broke apart, Heero rested his head against Duo's panting for breath. "Don't," he managed after a moment. "Don't apologize. Please. You were right. You've always been right."

"I still shouldn't have pushed you like that," Duo countered, wincing as his mouth took off without him again.

Heero's lips curved up in a small smile, his hands coming up to cup around Duo's face the same way Duo had his fingers curled around Heero's cheeks. He leaned in for a lingering taste, eyes fluttering open as he tilted his head back again. "Maybe that's exactly what you should have done. Maybe I'm just an idiot who needs to start listening to his emotions."

The deep purr of Heero's voice went straight to Duo's cock, hardening him further and making him whimper slightly. "Are you sure, Heero?" he asked weakly, terrified that this was nothing more than a horrifyingly realistic shower fantasy.

Heero took one of Duo's hands from his cheek, a wicked smirk crossing his lips as he brought the long-haired driver's hand down to wrap around his own straining arousal. "I don't know, Duo," he replied playfully, "Does it feel like I'm sure?" Without waiting for an answer, he released Duo's hand, pressing forward to pin the other man against him and seizing Duo's lips for another kiss.

The water had gone cold somewhere around the first tentative brush of lips, but neither firefighter could have told that with their own souls igniting into a firestorm within them, kindled by the press of body against body, flesh against flesh. Heero shuddered as Duo's hand started stroking him slowly, his grip tightening as he gained confidence and wrestled for control. Refusing to relinquish it just yet, Heero released Duo's lips, tilting his head to nibble along Duo's jawline until he reached the hollow of Duo's throat and began sucking gently. The hand around his cock trembled slightly, rhythm stuttering as Duo tilted his head back for Heero, offering himself.

With a wicked smirk, Heero doubled his assault, moving down past collarbone to the dusky nipples crowning rock hard muscles. He was rewarded with a strangled moan bursting from Duo's parted lips, violet eyes slipping closed as Heero licked and laved the firm nubbin. Taking it gently between his teeth, he worried it until he wrung a sharp gasp from Duo before turning his attention on the other side, worshipping it with the same intensity.

Duo's hands had long slipped from Heero, falling back against the slick tile as if to hold him up against Heero's onslaught. His chest heaved as he struggled to draw breath, even as his whole world threatened to shut down around him. After what seemed like an eternity, Heero finally took pity on him, turning his attention to painting a spiraling trail down Duo's chest and abdomen with his mouth until his tongue darted into Duo's navel, once, twice, a third time, teasing him. There was a slight pause as Heero gracefully sank to his knees before him, settling in to rest his cheek against Duo's thigh.

Peering up at the long-haired driver through the damp fringe of his bangs, Heero graced Duo with another of those deadly wicked smirks, the only warning he gave before leaning over to rasp his tongue against the underside of Duo's cock. Duo shuddered at the contact, little sparks of red and gold lightning bursting behind his clenched eyelids, one hand coming up to rest atop Heero's head, letting his fingers weave into that tangled mop of dark hair. Tongue darting out for another long taste, Heero reached up, cupping the heavy sac below with deft fingers and wresting another strangled groan from his lover.

Lover. He liked that word.

"Please... please Heero." Duo whimpered quietly, fingers tightening spasmodically against his scalp as his senses threatened to drown him.

Taking pity on the other man, Heero settled himself and leaned forward, engulfing Duo in a long, slow swallow. Only his hands, now pressed firmly into Duo's thighs, kept the driver upright as the sensation stole his strength and buckled his knees.

'Heero,' his mind kept repeating, a litany of wonderment, 'This is Heero. My Heero. He's... ohgod...'

Letting Duo slip from between his lips, Heero ran his tongue down the slit at the tip, gathering the musky moisture there, rolling the taste over in his mouth for a moment before returning for another taste.

Finding his strength again, slowly, Duo straightened a little in Heero's grasp, tilting his head until he could peer down at the Japanese man, see those lips wrapped so firmly around him. He whimpered, feeling a familiar wave of climax building within him. But it kept building, far beyond anything he'd ever felt before, like someone had tossed a small star into his soul, a place that had once only known the warmth of fire compared to this fusion reaction taking place now. When Heero released his hold upon Duo's thighs, slipping one hand around the base of his cock to anchor it as he sped up his pace, Duo thought he would be able to bear no more stimulation before he exploded. Heero proved him wrong a moment later when he reached below to cup his sac again, fingers just barely brushing against the puckered ring of flesh beyond, like the whisper of a promise.

With a softly strangled shout, Duo's universe imploded in a brilliant explosion of fire and sensation that left him floating for what seemed like a small eternity. Another moan clawed its way up from his gut as he felt Heero's throat working around him to swallow the entirety of his climax, tongue darting out as he slowly withdrew to gather the last drops.

Heero rested his head against the crease of Duo's thigh, collapsing against his lover's legs to catch his breath, even as the milky evidence of his own climax slid down the tiles to pool on the floor.

"Too much. God, Duo, you're too much," he murmured after a long moment.

Duo snorted, the staccato bark of his laughter echoing against the walls. "I'm too much he says," he replied weakly, sinking to his knees before Heero to gather him into his arms.

Heero took a deep breath, some unnamed fear within him finally abating, leaving him spent and boneless in Duo's grasp. The long-haired driver gathered him close, turning him to cradle against Duo's chest. They sat there at the edge of the cold shower spray for several long moments to gather their wits and catch their breath. It was the cold of the shower that convinced Heero that he was, indeed, alive, and not having a dream or delusion; he was fairly certain that in any daydream he managed, the water would always stay hot, just to spoil even the phantom of Duo.

"Do you regret it?" Duo asked hesitantly, breaking his train of though.

After several deep breaths of silent contemplation, Heero finally replied, "Yes."

"Y- yes?"

Heero tightened his arms about the arms wrapped around his shoulders, turning his head up to leave a lingering brush of lips against Duo's chin. "I wish I hadn't taken so long to wake up."

He could feel the tension drain out of Duo like water from a broken vessel, the thick curtain of water-dark hair surrounding them both as Duo bowed his head over Heero's with relief.

"So then next time, don't," Duo replied, tilting his head to nibble at the hollow of Heero's throat.

Heero could feel Duo's hand sliding along his abdomen, questing lower. With a regretful shake of his head, he caught that hand up in his own, holding it firmly. "No. Not yet. Not here. I want to do it right," he murmured, turning his head to catch Duo's lips with his own. Breaking away, he met Duo's gaze, smiling slightly. "At home. Your place. I want to make love to you against those black sheets on your bed."

Duo's eyes fluttered shut, his throat working to swallow back the small moan of anticipation rising from his chest. He could feel Heero's teeth close gently over the pounding pulse of his throat, nipping carefully to tease but not leave marks.

"Tomorrow," those lips promised. "Tomorrow morning, as soon as we get off work. I need a ride home, anyway."

Duo shook his head, caught between a snort of laughter and a frustrated growl. He settled for tightening his arms around Heero once more before slowly disentangling himself, using the wall to help him climb to his feet before offering Heero a hand up.

Heero's smirk widened a little, his eyes feasting upon every inch of Duo's body as he slowly rose from his crouch. The look wasn't lost on the violet-eyed driver, who turned away, bending at the waist to retrieve his conditioner, giving Heero a long view of his firmly muscled backside before straightening.

This time, the pained whimper came from Heero's throat, who was forced to retreat from the shower, as clean as he was likely to get with such a temptation so close at hand. "Tomorrow, Duo," he commented huskily from the doorway before he vanished.

Duo smiled, finishing up his shower as quickly as he could, the heat racing through his veins from the tone of Heero's voice making him forget just how very cold the water was after all this time. Never before had such an ominously dire threat sounded so wonderful.

Suddenly, "Tomorrow" felt like a million years away.


	24. Chapter 23

"But I don't understand..." she'd started to say, eyeing the bundle of papers clutched in her hands with a perplexed blink. "That hardly seems an appropriate-" "And what defines propriety?" had come the quietly murmured reply. "You? Those shadowy figures who presume to hold a leash they have imagined about our necks? Myself, even?" Treize turned then, so smoothly facing the window once more that the deep red wine in the glass he held did not even offer to slosh up the cut crystal sides. She'd remained silent as her employer and pledged Master regarded the panoramic view of the city spilling out before him. Far in the distance had been a shimmer along the horizon, the barest hint of distortion, of darkness marring the perfect dawn. The promised storm hovered just beyond mortal ken, waiting for the moment it might be set free. There would be rain and worse before the night fell. "Society is a blight upon the perfect face of this world, my dear Lady Une. It seeks to fetter Itself, chaining dreams of righteousness in trappings of honor, pretense, and some assumed sense of false morality. Mores, learned at birth, taught by leprous fools to unknowing babes, poison what humanity could be, twisting it into what humanity is. The potential our souls once held is slowly being leeched from us by the very world we ourselves have created. Life has become too easy, too simplistic and vulgar to continue fostering the competitive drive for transcendence that drove our ancestors to these shores more than a century ago," Treize had expounded, pausing now to sip delicately at the fragrant wine Une had selected for him. Nodding with appreciation, he turned his head, eyes not leaving the mesmerizing view of the city, merely feigning more interest in the Lady than he currently truly possessed. "Once, all it took was the sight of the stars above to inspire our fathers to reach for them. And now our children think it too difficult a task to catch one, so they retreat to their 'cyberspace', and their game consoles, and their insipid little melodramas and complain about the things they haven't the courage or integrity to grasp for themselves. We have strayed from the path, Lady. Righteousness is now nothing more than a word, spouted by politicians and diplomats to mock the memory of past glory. War has become a video game to be played by Ender's children; joysticks and displays rule the fate of honor now, not the honest bloodshed and valor of flesh and blood soldiers." Once he'd turned back towards the floor to ceiling window, Treize might have been little more than a statue of onyx silhouetted against the clear morning sky. If he breathed, Une had not seen the shift of his body, nor heard the faint bellows of his lungs as they drew breath in and out. She held her peace, waiting out his pause if for no other reason than to bask in his presence another moment more than she otherwise would have been able to. Deep within her chest had fluttered a faint stirring of awareness that both titillated and terrified her. As if part of her soul could reach out to touch his, could commune on a deeper level than ever before, but by doing so, would see a truth so frightening that the rest of her soul would not be able to contain it. For a fleeting moment, she'd found herself wondering if it was possible for a devotion this deep to kill, for a love like this to kill simply by longing too much. Surely this vacuum would seek to be filled somehow. Even with her own thoughts rattling around in her mind, his next whispered words had been like hammer strikes against her ears. "Life was much simpler when it was still ruled by flame." The silence curled about them both for long moments, a cat winding itself about Fate as She prepared to descend a staircase. Would She be caught up in the feline's dance and trip, clattering down the steps to die in an inelegant heap at the bottom, or would She fall into step, tamed by Mr. Treize and his glorious vision? "Sir," she'd finally murmured, a statement rather than the lilting question it sounded like. As if awakening from a distant dream, Treize turned slowly, meeting her eyes for the first time that morning. Though his cerulean regard did not shift to include the instructions in her hands, she was well aware that they had been included in his attention. "It is up to us to set humanity back upon the correct path, Lady. We must cull weakness from our midst and give the strong wings to fly once more. Each single step we take, no matter how small it may seem, is one more away from the menial masses which seek to drag genius down." "Sir," more confident then, with the faintest of nods. "I leave it in your capable hands, Lady," Treize replied, sipping once more from his glass as he turned back towards the window.

The fading echo of those remembered words filled her as if she were little more than a bowl awaiting his voice, a vessel to be filled with his touch, with his regard. The last of the wiring fell into place, tamed by her nimble fingers as she relived her conversation with Mr. Treize that morning. Being entrusted to accomplish this small part of Mr. Treize's grand vision filled her with a sense of purpose and pride, despite the rather austere surroundings. While she had not originally understood what use burning down this one useless warehouse out of the whole city would accomplish, the brilliance of the undertaking had quickly unfolded. The casualty count would not likely be that high, but the effect would be stunning.

Rising from her knees, Une dusted her hands off on the thighs of her coveralls and surveyed her work. The components were common, so common, in fact, that having first set her eyes upon them, Une had thought their Radio Shack homogeny to be beneath her. Of course, that was the brilliance. They were, in fact, for the most part scavenged from a pair of portable stereos favored by the very workers who usually prowled these steam tunnels and service ways. Their plastic carcasses, picked nearly clean by her frugal fingers, sat in a niche behind the rows of propane fuel tanks used on the forklifts that sat patiently in the warehouse above and behind her. Checking the remote, the one bit of refined and expensive equipment in this venture, Une smiled. Everything was in working order and was ready for Mr. Treize. All she had to do was deliver it to him and then return near sunset to trigger the initial blaze.

And then sit back and await the destiny Mr. Treize had envisioned. A destiny of flame and strife.

It would be magnificent.

* * *

Heero escaped into the relative safety of the bunk room to dress before he let the vision of a still naked Duo tempt him into forgetting his promise to seduce the long haired driver on his own black sheets. The bunk room was still too close to the dangerous ground of steamy shower, however, so he continued his strategic withdrawal into the kitchen beyond where at least the presence of other people might serve to help protect him from himself. Belatedly, Heero remembered that there was a woman present in the person of Noin, still helping Wufei to fix their brunch. Obviously, she had been part of the whole firehouse life before becoming an Investigator, but Heero frankly felt a little awkward unzipping in mixed company to tuck in his shirt-tails. Opting to suck in his gut, hard, to give him the needed room to cram the navy fabric beyond his beltline, Heero finished composing himself before stepping up to offer his help at the stove.

Noin, who had caught the maneuver from the corner of her eye as she flipped bacon onto a platter, simply grinned to the Japanese firefighter before declining his offer. Turning to place the now full platter on the counter, she asked, "Duo almost done in there? Brunch will be done in a minute."

"He's been in there longer than usual," Quatre commented in a worried voice, remembering the aura of dejection that had enveloped his friend earlier that morning. Shooting a suspicious glance at Heero, he was surprised to see the other man stifling a smile.

"He was just rinsing off when I left," Heero replied, his expression almost too neutral, the gleam in his prussian blue eyes almost too calm. Something was up. "Besides, he used up the last of the hot water, so he can't stay in there much longer."

Quatre paused in setting the table, his brow furrowing as he took in the complex jumble of emotions pouring off the normally collected Japanese firefighter. A faint flush rose in Quatre's cheeks as he absorbed the roil of satiated hunger that still emanated from Heero like the shimmer of mirage on desert sands. There was more to it, though, than pure primal lust - something deeper and fiercer, calming and enflaming all at once. It was like a slow burn, all smolder and embers, waiting for a fresh breath to explode into magnificent fury. Quatre had never doubted Duo's prowess before, but this abrupt about face in Heero's demeanor had even the blond empath slightly poleaxed.

A dark thought from deep within the center of his heart suddenly had Quatre praying that nothing ever happened to Duo; the consequences would be... dire.

"Oh, I did, did I?" Duo replied sardonically from the doorway, T-shirt tucked into unbelted pants, and his towel draped over one shoulder as he squeezed the last few drips from the tips of his unbraided hair. "Don't tell me that super-rookie Yuy is whining about it not being... hot... enough in there."

"Was I complaining?" Heero asked Quatre, reaching out during the distraction to steal a strip of bacon from the platter beyond Noin and earning himself a whack across the back of the hand for his troubles.

"Ha. Better not have been," Duo muttered, not giving the blonde paramedic a chance to answer Heero's rhetorical question before he padded barefoot over to peer over Noin's shoulder. After nodding in appreciation, Duo turned to spear Wufei with a mock-accusatory glare. "There's a woman in my kitchen."

"Actually, it's the taxpayer's kitchen," was the Investigator's bland reply.

"Hey, I pay taxes, too. Besides, last time I checked, I don't remember seeing any of these mythical 'taxpayers' in here polishing my chrome," Duo retorted, sauntering back towards the bunk room to braid his hair and pull on some shoes and socks.

"'Polish your chrome'?" Quatre mimicked, "Is that what they call it these days?"

"Euphemisms get more colorful every day, Quatre," Heero replied as he fetched a pair of chairs from the office to accommodate the extra bodies around the table.

"Besides," Wufei muttered to himself, "it looks like Maxwell's 'chrome' has been polished enough for one day already."

Zechs, who was the only one near enough to make out the soft growl, saved himself from a burst of laughter only by faking a choking fit on his coffee.

* * *

Nearly an hour and a half later, the last of the brunch dishes were loaded into the dishwasher, the largest items already drying in the dish rack beside the sink. Noin and Wufei watched the unhurried bustle of cleaning from their vantages on the couch and in comfy chairs near the TV, having been chased off by Duo who'd quoted the "Firehouse Rule: You cook, you don't clean," at them before running them off. He'd attempted to snap Wufei in the rear with a well placed and tightly wound up towel, only to have Zechs prevent him by doing the same thing to the braided driver. That had devolved into a round of name calling and horseplay that had even Heero snickering behind his hand. Taking full advantage of the, so far, relatively lazy Sunday, everyone drifted over to take their normal seats for a showing of Wufei's movie of the week: "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" this week. Duo dropped gingerly into the only other unoccupied chair, his rear still stinging a little from Zechs' last well placed shot, before he glanced up and cursed. With the addition of Noin, Heero's usual chair had already been taken, leaving them one seat short for everyone.

Plus, Heero had one of his study manuals in hand as he glanced around the already full seating arrangement.

"You're going to study," Duo accused, crossing his arms.

"A little," Heero admitted, "Not for the whole movie, but I have that state cert test in a few weeks, and I really need to get these chapters memorized. I'll buy you all a beer to make up for it tomorrow night. I promise."

Duo frowned, but nodded, stifling the odd sense of wistful disappointment that surged up within him at the sight of Heero's manual.

"Here, hold this," Heero replied, shoving the book into Duo's startled hands before vanishing back into the bunk room. He returned momentarily with one of Duo's pillows, purloined from under his bed, which he dropped to the floor in front of the recliner the braided driver occupied. Taking back the manual, Heero dropped into a cross-legged seat on the pillow and then leaned back against Duo's legs. "Okay?"

Duo nodded with satisfaction as he relaxed back into the chair, letting his lips curve into a small, if slightly surprised, smile.

Heero grunted an acknowledgement, pointedly ignoring the stunned looks everyone but Wufei was casting his way. With a secret little smile of his own, the Chinese investigator aimed the remote and started the movie.

Duo managed to sit still for a whole twenty minutes before even the lazy Sunday afternoon had to concede defeat. Surprisingly, Heero was so absorbed in his reading that he didn't even notice Duo's increasing restlessness until the violet-eyed man reached down and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Heero, here, take the chair. I need to get up," he murmured, urging his partner forward so he could stand.

Heero blinked in bewilderment a few times before settling into the vacated chair, watching Duo for a moment as the braided man made sure he was settled. "What-"

"Just feel like baking," Duo replied, answering Heero's question before he could ask it.

"Baking?" Quatre piped up. "You haven't felt like baking since the last time you managed to pull off short sheeting every bed down at Station 1."

"I just feel like an apple pie," Duo replied with a shrug. "Unless you don't want one?"

Zechs promptly reached over and clapped his hand over Quatre's mouth, silencing the paramedic. "Apple pie sounds wonderful, Duo. Pilfer away."

Duo grinned and then started sorting through the other two shifts' refrigerators looking for ingredients. After "borrowing" the apples from First Shift, and lemon juice from Second Shift, plus the spices and flour and butter from general kitchen supplies, he had everything he needed to make a nice pie from scratch.

"Remind me to pick up some apples to replace if we go out later today, okay Cap'n?" Duo called as he started mixing up the pastry crust.

A grunted chorus of affirmatives came from the direction of the couch, making Duo smile. Turning his attention back to the bowl, Duo tuned out the rest of the room and concentrated on mixing and rolling, cutting and peeling.

"Crouching Tiger" was more than half over before he was able to slide the lattice-topped confection into the oven to bake for the rest of the movie. With the pie in the oven, the counters now cleaned once again, the utensils and left over ingredients all put away, and a shroud of contentment settled over him, Duo slipped back over to the chair he'd given to Heero. He pushed the Japanese man back into his seat as Heero tried to rise and give up the recliner, murmuring a quiet, "Stay there," before dropping onto the pillow Heero had brought out. He shifted back until he was settled against Heero's legs, flipping his braid up out of the way to lay beside Heero's knee.

Once again the pair was the center of attention as the normally taciturn firefighter accepted this breech of his personal space with nothing more than a brief shake of his head and even a tiny little smile. Once again, Wufei seemed unphased by this turn of events, and merely allowed his own infinitismal smirk to widen by a fraction as Heero's hand absently sought out the soft tassel of Duo's braid.

Eventually, everyone's attention shifted back to the movie, leaving the pair in peace save for the occasional curious glance at Heero's fingers, which continued to brush through the short chestnut strands, or the oddly contemplative smile playing across Duo's features. The oven's buzzer, when it went off just as the first of the credits started to roll, came as something of a shock to them all. Heero glanced around warily for a few moments until he realized that his jarring sense of discomfort stemmed from his now empty hand. Brushing those fingers over his thigh, he concentrated on slowing the frantic tattoo of his heart.

Duo carefully extracted the now golden brown treat from the oven, setting it on a cooling rack he'd already placed out for just that reason. Bending down, he inhaled sharply and the turned to gloat at the others when the speaker popped loudly and everyone's heads snapped up.

A moment or two later, their diligence was rewarded when the speaker squawked, "This is an Aid Call. Engine Eight, Medic Six, need you to respond to the intersection of Laurel and First Street for a two vehicle 10-50 (1) with injury. Report of multiple patients complaining of neck and back pain. Engine Nine will be responding as well."

By the time the last of the details were echoing out of the speaker, everyone had already fled to the bay and was quickly pulling on their gear. Wufei and Noin waited by the door, watching with a little hint of nostalgia as their friends geared up. At their belts, both of their pagers started vibrating and chirping an alarm.

"Looks like we have a call, too!" Noin called to Zechs.

"We'll be back if we can. Be safe," Wufei yelled over the rumble of the diesel engines before turning to head for the phone.

The blonde captain waved sharply once before pulling on his helmet, hopping into his seat, and slamming the door. A second later, the lights flickered on, the siren blared, and Engine 8 took off in the wake of the quicker, more nimble ambulance, leaving the doors to clack shut on the now empty bay.

* * *

"'My way or the highway,' Tro?" Duo said incredulously as they filed back into the kitchen from the bay a little over half an hour later.

Trowa merely shrugged and smiled that half-serious smirk of his before replying, "He was faking. He just wanted to try and sock that nice little lady that tapped him with a bogus lawsuit. If he hadn't intentionally cut her off, she never would have tapped his car anyway."

"Besides, there wasn't even a scratch on either car. I'm not entirely sure they really did tap each other," Quatre added, wandering over to the cupboard for a mug to make tea. "I'm just glad the backboard and cervical collar was enough to scare him into being truthful about not being hurt."

"Yeah, well Trowa getting the big ass needle of morphine ready to stab him with probably helped. Funny how it's always the big linebacker types that always seem so squeamish around sharp pointy needles," Duo snickered.

"It was only saline," Trowa replied evenly.

"Yeah, but the guy didn't know that. He thought you were all ready to dope him to the gills, and with Quatre going on about constipation as a side effect of morphine, it looked like he was ready to jump up, do a jig on the roof of his car, and 'dance dance revolution' his way home just to prove he was okay and didn't need it all so he could escape you two," Duo retorted, crossing his arms and leaning back against the now cool stove to eye them both with respect. "I thought Nine's crew was gonna bust a gut trying not to laugh watching you two handle him before we cut them loose and sent them back to their quarters."

"Duo, where's the pie?" Quatre asked suddenly, breaking into the braided driver's mirth.

"Whatcha mean, 'where's the pie,' Quatre? It's right there on the cooling ra-" Duo's voice trailed off as he turned to face the paramedic, nodding at the empty cooling rack. Or rather, the cooling rack than now held up a slip of paper rather than a pie. Reaching over, Duo snatched up the scrap and read it out loud, frowning fiercely. "'Thanks for the pie. It was great. Engine Nine.' Those *bastards*! Okay, find my pie."

Heero, who had just entered the kitchen from the rig room on the tail end of that outburst, simply stopped in his tracks, his face curiously blank and cheeks oddly flushed.

"Find your... What?" he asked quietly.

"My PIE! You know, the apple pie I just spent all afternoon making for you all. From SCRATCH. With the cutting, and the homemade crust and the... Just look for the damned pie, you smug sadist!" Duo growled, watching Heero's slow smile spread as his partner ranted.

After several long minutes of searching, every dish had been searched, every cupboard opened and sorted through, every fridge checked, and even every locker in the bunk room invaded, all to no avail. Zechs quickly gave up, snickering as he watched Duo continuing his quest. Finally, when Duo returned from a fruitless perusal of the rig room, Zechs simply held out the phone, hiding his smile with his other hand.

Duo snatched it up, normally nimble fingers almost violently punching in the familiar number. He didn't even bother waiting for the voice on the other end to finish its greeting before snapping, "Okay asshole, where's my damned pie?"

Even from across the room, everyone could hear the tinny electronic voice burst into laughter. After a moment, the noise subsided to a murmur only Duo, in sole possession of the phone, could decipher. What he heard merely made him scowl more deeply.

"Yes, *that* pie. And no, we didn't make enough to share. Try to be nice by cutting you loose early from the bullshit calls, and you steal our friggin' pies. Gratitude," he growled, only the sparkle in his eyes giving away his amusement. "No," he drawled in answer to an unheard question, "tonight. Before dinner. Now. Yeah, now would be good. I can't believe you actually removed it from the premises! That's going too far, man. You do realize that this means war, right?"

Another tinny eruption of laughter, louder this time and slightly harmonized as if more than one voice were responsible.

"Yeah, just remember that when I shrink wrap your whole rig on my next K-Day (2)," Duo shot back. "We want that damned pie back, Joe. I'll sick Noin on you, don't think I won't."

There was a pause as Duo listened to the reply, and then Duo nodded, a satisfied laugh escaping him before he hung up without so much as a good-bye.

"They actually *took* it with them. We cut them loose, so they snuck over here to prank us, saw the pie, and *took* it. I can't believe they actually removed it from the firehouse," Duo said incredulously.

"And the other, presumably acceptable, option would have been... What exactly?" Heero inquired.

Duo spun to stab him with a shocked glare. "To *hide* it! Here! At *our* firehouse! Taking a fireman's food out of his own firehouse is really going one step too far, man! I thought you knew that! Geeze, Zechs, what are they teaching these rookies these days?" Duo asked, throwing his hands into the air in a patently false show of melodrama.

Quatre had enough and burst into a fit of giggles, dropping to a seat at the kitchen table where he buried his face in his crossed arms. After several long moments, he composed himself again and glanced up, calm enough to manage, "So they're bringing it back?"

"Theoretically," Duo replied, shaking his head ruefully. "Teach me to leave a fresh pie unguarded in a firehouse. Animals. The lot of them, all animals."

Before anyone had a chance to respond to that, the speaker squealed, burping out, "This is an Aid Call. Engine Eight, Medic Six, please respond to Sun Valley Rest Village for a possible heart attack. 81 Year old man complaining of chest pain, history of cardiac bypass."

"Crap," Duo muttered, eyeing the kitchen as he followed in everyone's wake out to the rigs. "No time to nail it all down. Wonder what else they'll steal this time?"

Quatre merely snickered before slamming his door shut and flipping on the siren. Once again, the doors were quickly left to clack slowly shut on an empty bay.

Duo barged into the kitchen, gaze warily darting around to take in every detail and see what could be missing this time. Everyone else simply filed in behind him, waiting for the verdict. Sharp violet eyes quickly picked out the still pristine pie sitting back on its cooling rack, a new slip of paper balanced atop it, and a package wrapped in a plastic grocery sack on the counter next to it. Duo snatched up the paper and read it silently, smirking before he re-read it, this time, aloud for everyone else.

"'Thanks for being the generous souls we'd heard the Engine 8 crew to be. We appreciate being invited to share in your baked goods. Unfortunately, duty called, so we had to leave before you got back. Hope you enjoy the ice cream. Don't wait up for us. - Joe' Better not be some weird ass jamocha fudge flavor," Duo snorted. "Wouldn't go with the pie."

Heero dumped the cardboard carton out of the plastic, holding it up with a triumphant smirk for Duo to see. "Natural Vanilla. Happy now?"

"Of course," Duo replied. Grinning as he minutely examined the pie for damages. Satisfied after a few moments of inspection that the pastry was no worse for wear, despite its rather amusing journey, he placed it back in the cool oven for safe keeping. "I'm still going to shrink wrap their rig on my next K-Day."

"Only you, Duo," Zechs muttered, settling to a seat in front of the TV to look for something slightly less mindless than infomercials, "Only you."

Though he smirked, his eyes twinkling with bedeviled meriment, the braided driver did not refute his captain.

* * *

~TBC~

(1) 10-50 - a motor vehicle accident. Most police and fire departments use versions of what are called "ten codes" to shorten radio traffic and protect both the public and the public servants.

(2) K-Day - also known as a Kelly Day. Some departments give their firefighters an extra day off in a set pattern. Such as, every tenth shift they would normally work, they have off. It's mostly a morale booster, an added bonus to relieve the stress that builds up from such a stressful job. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure why it's called a "Kelly Day"... Tradition, for certain, but a tradition of what, I don't know yet. Perhaps named for the first guy who thought it up or implemented it. All I know is that having essentially a week off every month *rocks*.


	25. Chapter 24

"Man, what a nice change from last shift," Duo sighed happily as he carefully dried the last of the dinner dishes that Heero had just washed. "Engine Nine's illegal pie theft maneuver notwithstanding."

Noin shook her head, nursing a mug of coffee as she watched the guys all tidy their kitchen up. "I wish I could have seen your face. You know, Control already knows about that. When we checked in this morning on our way back here, they were asking us to give them an update when we arrived."

"Control will just have to bake their own pies and worry about them. I'm not sharing with them," Duo declared. "Though if you and Wu bring us this kind of luck when you visit, you're welcome back any time. It's been quiet as a church mouse since you guys came back."

Quatre winced as he took the last dish from Duo and stowed it back in the cupboard. "Well, it used to be quiet. Now that you've jinxed us all, we'll be running all night," he sighed, not entirely in jest.

Heero hid a small smirk as his Captain smacked Duo lightly in the back of the head, thanking him sarcastically.

"I'd forgotten how superstitious firefighters were," Heero commented quietly, drying his hands on the towel Duo still held.

"Don't tell me that you've already forgotten last shift, Heero. As I recall, you had to drive the blithering idiot home so he wouldn't end up being a rather spectacular motor vehicle accident, himself," Wufei replied, a teasing glint in his dark eyes giving away his amusement despite the deadpan voice.

"I just didn't want to see the car mangled," the Japanese firefighter replied in the same tone of voice. "It may only be a Camaro, but it deserves better after surviving Duo all this time."

Duo refused to rise to the bait; the expected indignant outburst never came. Instead, Duo simply opened up the oven and fished out the pie that Engine Nine had returned to them, smelling it dramatically.

"That's okay," he replied mildly, "You're outta the kitchen. No pie for you. Trowa? Noin? Can I interest you in some pie? You-"

The discordant squeal of the General Alarm tones interrupted him, followed quickly by several glares and a chorus of groans.

"General Alarm. We have a General Alarm in section 10. 1784 North Marybelle Lane, we have a report of a commercial garage on fire with flames showing. All units are 10-08 [1]. General Alarm in section 10"

As silence settled over the kitchen once more, six pairs of eyes turned to stare warningly at Duo.

"You got lucky, braid boy," Noin warned. "If that had been in 8's territory, I think Captain Zechs here would have been looking for a new driver, after he got done murdering you. I do not," she continued, emphasizing the last word with a shake of her finger, "want to have to listen to his boyfriend bitching at me for the rest of the night because they got a kick-your-ass fire after you jinxed them, and now he won't get sex when they get home tomorrow. Understood?"

Surprised at Noin's unexpected vehemence, Duo could only nod, totally missing the embarrassed look that Zechs and Wufei exchanged. Noin, however, did not.

"And you two," she continued, turning on the pair, "It's pretty damn obvious that even your Rookie is in on the joke, joined the club, or whatever you want to call it, so I think you can quit beating around the bush. He knows, I know, they all know. Quit looking guilty and just..." her voice trailed off for a moment, and she lost a bit of her bluster. "Just be happy."

Silence once again filled the kitchen, this time tense with discomfort and wary surprise rather than anticipation. Unexpectedly, it was Heero who broke the quiet.

"Should I call Sally, or do you just need a quick tension relief fuck?" he said, a curious little quirk of his lips turning the jibe into a private joke, shared only between friends.

"How... How do you know about-" Noin stammered.

"I know things. Like the fact that you need to get laid before all this raging testosterone drowns you in a seething mass of sexual tension," Heero shot back with a snort. He tipped his chin down, staring at her from under his lashes with a combination of challenge and the same sort of wry amusement that siblings might share at the expense of their parents. "Or I've got a stash of M&amp;Ms in my locker if a chocolate fix will do the trick for now."

That shook Noin out of her shocked paralysis. She advanced on him, hands fisted at her hips, and eyes alight with a savage look that any Rookie who had screwed up Arson evidence at a scene would find far too familiar. Only long familiarity with Noin and her expressions allowed Wufei and Zechs to spot the telltale signs of amusement that proved that she was only joking. "They'd better be Plain, Rookie, because about the only thing I want to do with nuts right now is crush them."

"Yes, mam," Heero replied, expression unchanged, but voice warm.

Noin sighed explosively, shaking her head as she ran her hand through her bangs. "I oughta kick your ass you arrogant, conceited, sexist, egotistical little pri-"

The familiar shrill tone of a General Alarm cut her off short.

"General Alarm. We have a General Alarm in section 11A. Across the street from 3108 South Wyndale Road, caller states that she can see flames coming from a Highway Department maintenance shed. Battalion 1, Truck 1, Engine 1, Engine 4, Engine 5, Engine 10, Medic 1, and Medic 3 are all 10-07 [2]. All other units are 10-08 [1]."

"Holy shit. Been a while since we've had this much fire activity going on at the same time at different points in the city," Duo murmured. "I got a bad feeling about this, Captain."

"You aren't the only one," Wufei replied, sharing a look with Noin. "Call in Otto. I have the feeling that we're going to need him tonight."

Noin nodded sharply and reached for her cel phone, even as Wufei was dialing his own. Engine 8 and Medic Six's crews quickly tidied the kitchen, expecting the speaker to pop once again any second. As if choreographed, Noin and Wufei ended their calls at nearly the same moment.

"Otto's already on his way in. He's headed to the garage to pick up the other Investigation van."

"Good. I'll take South Wyndale, you take North Marybelle," Wufei replied, gathering up his jacket. "We'll stop past the garage for the third van."

Noin nodded briskly and caught up her own jacket on her way to the back exit. Turning at the door, she shot Heero a mock-glare. "You still owe me chocolate, Rookie." Without waiting for a reply, she swept out the door leaving Wufei to follow.

A dark-eyed glance passed over the two crews, lingering briefly on Zechs. "Remember, gentlemen... There is a madman out there trying to kill firemen, who may or may not be out to prove a point to the world. Don't get dead."

A chorus of quietly murmured assents answered him, and with a final private look for Zechs, Wufei slipped out the door as well. Outside, the van rumbled to life and roared off recklessly.

"What worries me the most is that it wasn't Noin driving," Zechs murmured, watching the vehicle vanish.

Duo looked up sharply, frowning as he replied, "He really is worr-"

The half-expected tones cut the braided driver off short. "General Alarm. We have a General Alarm in section 8A. 2894 West Haversburg Boulevard, caller stated that the east side of the structure was fully involved. Units available for this alarm are Engine 8, Engine 12, Engine 7, Engine 3, Medic 4, Medic 6, and Truck 2. All other units are 10-07 [2]. General Alarm, section 8A."

"'East side'?" Quatre called on the way to his rig, his brow furrowed as he tried to mentally place the address.

"I know that place. 2894 West Haversburg is that old warehouse complex out by the shopping district." Duo called as his Captain and firefighter jumped into their gear.

A look of comprehension dawned on Quatre's face as the door to Medic 6's bay finally clacked all the way open. Engine 8's door was only a fraction of a second slower, giving Zechs and Heero a chance to hop in and slam their doors shut before Duo started pulling forward out of the bay. As soon as the Engine cleared the bay door, Medic 6 was following close behind, two diesel motors screaming into the evening gloaming as the rigs hit the street.

Looking to the north, Heero could make out the faint haze of thick smoke far off near the edge of the city. Craning his neck around, he checked to the south where a similar sight greeted him. As if unwilling, he slowly swung his gaze to the west. A much nearer, much larger column of smoke rose from the crimson vestiges of the sunset, almost as if the sun itself had set the world on fire. A strange sort of dread settled into the pit of his stomach like a thick iron ball. Ingrained habit guided his hands as they cinched down the various buckles and straps of his air pack.

Zechs' deep voice broke into Heero's thoughts as his Captain replied to Control when they advised him that an Arson Investigator was already en route to the scene. A detached part of Heero's attention commented silently that even Control seemed to be infected with the subdued air that had settled over Engine 8's normally boisterous crew.

Save for the occasional warning abut a rough corner or a quick maneuver, Duo remained silent throughout the drive, not even indulging in his normal complaints about inconsiderate drivers who refused to yield to emergency vehicles. The quiet grated on Heero's nerves.

Hard on the heels of that thought, Heero suddenly understood how much he had changed in the few short weeks since joining the crew of Engine 8. More than his performance in the shower that morning with Duo, more than the odd thoughts and desires that would flit across his brain at unpredictable moments, more even than his unexpected outburst at J in the hospital, this sudden hatred of silence, particularly Duo's silence, spoke volumes about how deeply this life had rooted itself into Heero. How deeply Heero had allowed it to become rooted within him.

The vague unease that had filled him since the second General had toned out was suddenly replaced by a fierce determination. No matter the cost, Heero would see this tender new self within him protected and nourished. He would see them all protected.

He turned in his seat, attention called by his Captain's hissed exclamation. Still several blocks ahead of them, sheets of kicking gold and crimson danced up into the darkening sky.

"Nothing that evil should be so beautiful," Zechs murmured, echoing a thought that had just entered Heero's mind as well.

Duo grunted an agreement as he swung the big rig around yet another car that had suddenly realized that it was being tailed by what should have been a pretty obvious firetruck, what with all the lights and sirens blazing. Behind them, Medic 6 blasted its air horn in frustration as they passed the car, and further back, Truck 2 and Engine 12 repeated the motion.

"Engine 8 is on scene," Zechs spoke clearly into the radio, "Three story warehouse structure, east side is fully involved with no exposures at this time. Engine 8 is passing Incident Command [3] to Engine 12."

Engine 8 slid to a stop along the edge of the building that was covered in flame, the three occupants pouring out even as the air brakes were charging to set. As Heero grabbed the big 2 1/2 inch hose, he heard the rig's engine shudder and shift, transmission sliding into pump gear with a hitch like a teacher clearing her throat.

Zechs appeared at Heero's side, taking half the bundle of hose and heading towards the building, letting hose fall from his shoulder loop by loop as he jogged swiftly away. Taking off at a right angle, Heero laid out the rest of the bundle, kicking out a kink as he jogged over to join his Captain.

Behind them, Duo charged the hose, watching in satisfaction as the canvas bucked and rolled, thrashing like a pinned dragon as it flushed full of water. As the wave of harnessed water caught up with the two firefighters at the nozzle, he saw Heero collapse forward into Zechs, compensating for the explosion of water that erupted from the tip. They both staggered for a moment, but only that, before directing the water stream at the worst of the fire. Checking his gauges, Duo adjusted the pressure, feathering the throttle to give Zechs and Heero the most water for the least backpressure.

Beside him, Truck 2 was already putting up the aerial ladder, while Engine 12's crew busily laid a feeder line from the hydrant to Engine 8. Setting the pressure relief gauge, Duo turned his attention to hooking up the hose that 12 had brought him before the water in 8's tank ran out, leaving his Captain and firefighter high and dry. Behind Truck 2, Engine 7 slid to a halt and started laying in to a different hydrant.

By the time Truck 2 had its ladder fully deployed, Engine 7 had hooked in to the hydrant and was helping hook another hose from their rig to Truck 2. Long before that, and with more than 200 gallons to spare, Duo had gotten the feeder from 12 hooked up, and their firefighter had opened the hydrant, ensuring that Engine 8 had a continuing supply of water.

At the direction of Engine 12's Captain, the second feeder line from Engine 7 to Truck 2 was cracked open, and another water leviathan erupted to life, bucking and fighting against the pavement like an anaconda. With a screaming hiss that was loud enough to be heard over the roar of the flames, the huge deluge gun at the tip of Truck 2's ladder burst open in a shower of water. The Truck's driver made a few quick adjustments on the controls, and the gentle rain focused into a tight lance of water, spearing deep into the heart of the inferno from above.

Another firefighter materialized beside Duo, bouncing impatiently as he pointed towards the hose bed and shouted to be heard over the din of diesel engines, streaming water, roaring flames, and exploding steam. With a nod, Duo helped the firefighter, who he absently noted was from Engine 3, pull down the 250 foot section of 1 3/4 inch hose. Another firefighter from Engine 3 ghosted out of the chaos to take Duo's share of the bundle, and the two firefighters dashed off to stretch out the hose. Once the hose was laid out, the firefighters turned and signaled Duo.

With practiced ease, the braided driver quickly opened the valve to that hose with one hand, while throttling the engine up with his other hand. Before the pressure had a chance to fluctuate in the 2 1/2 inch hose, Duo was already gating that valve back, preventing his Captain and Heero from being overwhelmed by the sudden increase in pressure when the big diesel engine's RPMs went up. Duo cursed to himself under his breath when he saw Heero glance back towards him. Must not have been quite smooth enough if Heero noticed. Duo vowed to practice the technique more when they got back to quarters.

All around him, other hoses sprang to life from other rigs. Duo peered around and saw that three hydrants had been tapped for this fire. Making sure that all his gauges were giving him the correct readings, Duo stepped back and hopped up onto the feeder hose. It remained firm under his boots, holding his weight as easily as if it were concrete and steel rather than rubber and canvas. Had it yielded under his weight, that would have meant that they had tapped too many hydrants on the same water system in the area, and the fire trucks were drawing more water faster than the area could supply. There would be no way to guarantee that the water supply would hold out for the whole fire under such demands. Someone in City Planning must have done the smart thing and put in all industrial sized water mains in this area. Duo spared half a moment to send up a silent thanks to that foresightful individual. Then he returned his hawk-eyed attention to his crew and the gauges of his precious Engine 8.

A few short minutes later, a man who was peering intently towards the dying structure slipped up beside him. Duo glanced over the Investigator's uniform, noting the hastily donned state and the man's disheveled hair. Otto turned and nodded cordially at him, leaning in to be heard over the wailing engine.

"That Zechs?" he yelled, pointing towards the nozzle of the 2 1/2 inch hose.

Duo nodded sharply, glancing back towards the pump panel and the gauges, making small adjustments now and then. Wiping the sweat dripping from his brow off, Duo motioned to the Investigator.

"Hey, watch the panel for a sec. I wanna put on my bunkers - it's gettin' hot!" he yelled over the rumble of the pump and engine.

Otto nodded and stepped up the pump panel, examining the various gauges while Duo jogged to the rear of the rig where his gear was stowed.

* * *

He could almost smell the acrid tang of the smoke. Like a connoisseur savoring a rare vintage, Treize inhaled deeply and rolled the imagined flavor/scent across the back of his throat, categorizing it, dissecting it, memorizing it.

Of course, the air handling units of the penthouse were too efficient for any of the beloved odor to reach him, however Treize could feel his creature calling out to him, defying the very laws of physics itself. He truly could taste it, deep in his soul, if not on his palette.

Though many blocks away, Treize could quite clearly see the chaos his beautiful creature was wreaking, They scurried about like ants down there, those pitiful firemen. Une had done a fine job in giving his siren a voice. It boded well for the quality of the coup de gras.

Long, aristocratic fingers stroked lovingly over the thin plastic and steel remote in his hand. Though the casing had warmed in his heated grasp, the buttons were still cool to the touch. It would not do to rush this masterpiece simply because of an overeager shiver, now would it? He could feel it, pulsing in his hand, giving his creature a heartbeat that rose and fell in time with his own. Or was it his own heartbeat that rose and fell in cadence with the creature's?

They were one.

This terrible drama, this magnificent beauty, the righteous rage spiraling up into the night and the faint tremors tingling along his spine, tantalizing him and tormenting him all at once. The heart of a Phoenix, myth no longer, beat within his breast. Though they may seek to slay it, though they might strike at it with their lances and swords, those pathetic little fighters, not honorable enough, not strong enough to be called warriors even, would never slay his beautiful Phoenix.

Though the survivors of the battle may well someday earn the title of warrior. Then perhaps they would be able to return righteousness to this hellish, misguided world. All it would require was tempering.

By fire.

* * *

As Duo, now dressed in bunker pants and helmet with coat slung over his shoulder, jogged back to resume his place at the pump panel, Otto stepped away to relinquish his place. The Investigator's gaze swung across the entire scene, taking in the angle of the ladder, the number and placement of all the hoses, the grim determination on the faces that he could see, the fog building up in the masks of the faces that he couldn't see. His attention paused, lingering over Zechs and Heero standing so near the fiery throat of the blaze. With very little trouble, one could tune out the rest of the scene, focusing on those two until all one saw was two small men backlit by flame, like the last Knights of some lost Crusade standing against the barbarian horde. It was so typically Zechs that Otto couldn't help but smile to himself. That spirited young boy standing up against his father so very many years ago had never truly grown up, yet had matured beyond all expectation and hope.

A sudden finger of dread slid down Otto's spine, chilling him and stealing his breath away. Like a tone too high to be heard, or a silent whisper from St. Florian's [4] own lips, Otto could feel a desperate danger deep in his bones. A danger, which from the looks of the other firefighters, only he could feel. He had to warn them. He had to get him out of there.

Spinning towards Duo, he grabbed his arm and leaned in to shout, "Get them out of there! Call them back! You've got to cut their water supply! Now!"

Duo gaped at the man, not believing what he was hearing. "Are you NUTS?"

"No! Now! Get him back here! Do it! Cut their water! Get them back!"

Duo shook the Investigator off, eyeing him as if he'd suddenly turned into an alien. The man was insane. Cut their water supply? In this conflagration? That'd be murder, plain and simple.

Seeing that Duo was clearly not going to cooperate, Otto let go of the Driver and turned towards the fire. A moment later, he was sprinting towards the pair at the end of the 2 1/2 inch hose, the heat blasting at him through his thin uniform. Behind him Duo shouted, calling to Otto, even calling towards the Captain from Engine 12 who was supposed to be in charge of the scene. No one heard him over the chaotic din of the scene.

Zechs jumped as a man clad in nothing more than a regular duty uniform appeared beside him, despite the searing heat of the fire. Already, a thick sheen of sweat coated Otto's features, and it wasn't the dancing glare of the flames that tinted the Investigator's skin pink, but rather the first stages of burn that was already damaging Otto's hands and face.

Otto? Was that really Otto with that look of wrath and fear on his face? It took Zechs a moment to really reconcile the familiar image of his old friend with the visage of this man before him, as the Otto he knew had never looked so fierce and grim before.

"-NOW!" Otto shouted, leaning closer so that Zechs could understand him through the mask and the noise, "YOU HAVE TO LEAVE NOW!"

He reached out, flinching as his fingers closed around the hot cloth of Zechs' bunker gear to grab the Captain's arm. Otto saw Heero reach for him, trying to bat him out of the way, motioning him back towards the dubious safety of the rigs, but he dodged out of the way and grabbed Zechs' arm again. Pulling, he urged the other man to retreat, shouting warnings until his voice grew raw.

Duo saw his Captain start to shut down the hose, could read the confusion in ever fiber of Zechs' being. Even from the distance, Duo could tell that his Captain did not want to retreat, did not want to back away from the fire, but needed to get Otto to safety. Without bunker gear, the Investigator was literally roasting himself alive standing so close to the blaze.

Duo watched as Heero started to shift his weight as not to topple into his Captain when the hose shut down. A sudden lance of ice-cold terror raced through Duo from the base of his brain to his balls, and every hair on his neck stood on end.

That's when the whole world lit up into a nova of fury and rage. The last thing Duo saw before darkness descended was Otto's silhouette against the maelstrom, still urging Zechs to retreat.

* * *

End Part 24

Notes:  
[1] 10-08 - this is "10 Code" speak, or short hand radio speak, for "available". It means that the units sated are not already busy on a run and can come to the run being announced.

[2] 10-07 - this is "10 Code" speak, or short hand radio speak, for "busy". It means that the units stated are already committed to a call, and are not available to respond to the run being announced.

[3] Incident Command - at every large emergency event, such as a structure fire, someone has to be in charge. It is this person, The Incident Commander, who is responsible for directing who goes where, who is doing what, and making sure that folks go where they are supposed to go and don't stray off to play Lone Gunman. Usually that duty falls to the Battalion Chief, however if there are several incidents occurring at the same time, a Batt Chief may not be available, and a Captain may assume this duty. In this case, the first rig in has the option to either assume the command, or pass it to the second rig in, and proceed with rescue or firefighting operations.

[4] St. Florian - Patron Saint of Firefighters


	26. Chapter 25

The world was on fire. It burned in his lungs, it burned in his eyes, it burned in his throat, it burned in his skin, it even made his bones ache. The entire world had dissolved into nothing but searing pain. It stretched on into hours, weeks, years, eons, and did not cease. It enervated ever fiber of his body, and yet, he did not die of it. He could feel the pain eating away at what was left of his mind, his sanity, stealing wisps of himself until he couldn't even remember his own name.

He was pain. He was-

"OTTO!"

No. Otto was dead. There was nothing left of Otto but pain. Please God, please... Send the darkness. Let the darkness sweep this pain away. Anything, anything please.

"Otto!"

A fresh wave of searing agony washed over him as the whole world bucked and rolled beneath him. The image of a young lad, jaw set in fierce determination and golden curls confined under a battered old armored helm, sprang into his mind. The youth faced down a raging dragon, the very image of St. George himself, though his blue eyes were filled with tears.

Someone was crying. He was crying, the lad. Only the image was wrong. Otto blinked his eyes open painfully, to see the tears swimming in Zechs' eyes. He was a lad no longer, but a grown man, helmet cracked, face shield melted away. A few errant strands of platinum hair had escaped the singed hood, and tears carved deep tracks through the soot caked on the aristocratic features. A jagged laceration over his right eye dripped blood sluggishly down his cheek as he bowed over Otto's twisted form. St. George had taken a beating, and the dragon still raged about them all.

But he was alive.

Zechs gently rolled Otto onto his side, clearing dust and debris from around the Investigator's face. Quiet groans slipped past Otto's lips as he was moved, his voice too weak to give voice to the screams he obviously wanted to let loose, if his grimace of agony was anything to judge by.

"Otto," Zechs called, his voice cracking on the last syllable with fear and a little pain of his own. His shoulder was a writhing ball of torture, and his arm didn't seem to want to function right. Probably broke his collarbone or shoulder when he flew backwards into Heero during the explosion.

Zechs looked around sharply, spotting Heero just starting to stir about twenty feet away. The Japanese firefighter guarded his left side carefully as he slowly levered himself up, batting the remains of his SCBA mask off with annoyance.

Satisfied that Heero was at least alive, Zechs returned his attention to Otto, giving the man a gentle shake and calling his name again. He was rewarded with a choked moan as Otto slowly blinked his eyes open. His gaze fastened upon Zechs as a drowning man would look upon a life raft, and the faintest of smiles settled upon Otto's cracked lips.

" ...a- live..."

"Be still, you fool. We'll get you to the hospital. You'll be okay," Zechs grated out, casting about for Medic 6.

" ...no."

Zechs jerked as Otto's fingers slowly brushed over a damp trail on his cheek, the Investigator's fingertips as dry and hard as cracked leather. It was only because Otto had shielded Zechs with his own body that the Captain was not also covered with full thickness [1] burns from head to toe. Yet, despite the agony that the Investigator had to be in, Zechs could see a deep and residing peace seem to blossom within him. Those ancient fingers settled along Zechs' jaw, rooting him to the spot.

"Your father... would be... proud," Otto rasped out.

Even as Zechs tried to frame a denial, Otto's breath rattled through his lungs, and then was silent. Ash and bone and tormented flesh slid lifeless to the cracked pavement, though the final beautific smile never faded.

* * *

Every breath was a searing lance right to his lungs, and Heero's mouth tasted of blood and ash. He shook his head, slowly convincing rebellious limbs that they wanted to uncurl and move, cajoling battered muscles into working beyond the pain.

Damn mask. The world was a cracked haze of soot and embers through the shattered remains of his SCBA mask. The facepiece had melted and broken, splintering outward in a shower of spider web cracks. Whatever it was that had hit him, though, hadn't penetrated to his face. That was one small blessing at least.

His head was screaming and the shrill, piercing whine of PASS Devices [2] wasn't helping matters. Too many of the big rigs that had brought them all here were now silent, engines choked to death in the smoke and soot, or beaten to death by shrapnel and debris. Behind him, somewhere, he could still make out the distinctive purr of Engine 8, though there was a new stutter in the deep rumble of the diesel motor, an injury that may yet prove to be fatal. Over it all, however, far too many PASS Devices wailed into the night, with far too few hands moving to still them.

The warehouse was gone. A few girders and joists poked up through a twisted pile of burning flotsam that lay fully twelve feet high, but there was nothing more intact than that. Fire still raged merrily through the rubble, dancing along bits of debris that jutted out of firetrucks and ground, and even a few unmoving bodies here and there. The water piping on Truck 2's aerial had been mortally pierced by a steel pipe, and now most of the water sprayed over the scene in an incongruously gentle rain. The ladder itself lay twisted back upon itself, no longer able to retract into the cradle. A firefighter stirred near the rear of the Truck, slowly picking himself up off the pavement. Across the scene, too few bodies that Heero could pick out were stirring, and too many of the men that he knew should be there, simply weren't.

Turning, Heero's gaze fell upon Zechs, kneeling over the man that had vainly tried to pull them back from the throat of the blaze. He saw his Captain bow his head over the body, a racking sob seizing his eyes away, Heero glanced towards Engine 8, instinctively trying to pick out Duo amidst the wreckage and disarray. Not spotting him, Heero slowly started levering himself to his feet, clutching his left arm against his side to quell some of the stinging ache in his chest.

As he stumbled over to Zechs, he paused, giving his Captain a moment to compose himself before asking, "Who's IC [3]?"

Gently lowering Otto to the ground once more, Zechs slowly peered around him, noting the quiet rigs, the still bodies, and the fire now burning unchecked. Taking the hand the Heero offered, Zechs pulled himself to his feet.

"Find Duo. Find Quatre and Trowa. Check the others. I'm going to find the IC and notify Control. We need some back-up," he grated out, his voice thick and well on its way to abused.

Heero nodded sharply and continued towards Engine 8. As he neared the pump panel, he felt his breath hitch in his lungs; Duo's bunker jacket hung from one of the handles on the panel. The thumb hole had gotten caught, and the whole coat was now peppered with dozens of jagged tears, some even still sporting the shrapnel that tore them. Just beyond the panel, Duo's helmet teetered against the pavement, the chinstrap ripped in two, face shield missing, and a crack running from brim to shield mount.

"Duo?"

There was no answer to his tentative call, nor could Heero spot even so much as a pile of debris that could be hiding the braided Driver. His breath quickened in his lungs, heedless of the pain in his chest. Heero's pace picked up as he jogged past Engine 8, pain all but forgotten.

Beyond Engine 8, Medic 6 sat, mostly unscathed, save for a few cosmetic scratches and dents. Of Trowa and Quatre there was no sign yet, however as Heero jogged around towards the front, he stumbled upon a limp bundle dressed in battered bunker pants and a uniform shirt. There was blood in that chestnut brown hair, though the braid looked undamaged.

"Duo!"

Heero dropped to the ground, kneeling beside his partner. He felt carefully along Duo's head, examining the place where the Driver's hair was matted with blood. Though his exploring fingers encountered a sizable lump with a laceration at its center, Duo did not stir. Training took over, and Heero found himself almost a passenger in his own mind as he briskly examined his partner for any other injuries, moving Duo as little as possible. He could feel a long, deep laceration to Duo's right shoulder which bled sluggishly and would require stitches, but little else significant upon initial examination.

A cervical collar suddenly manifested beside him.

"I'll get the collar on him, you just hold him still for a moment, Heero," Quatre ordered calmly.

Heero nodded, noting the dark black eye Quatre sported, as well as the deep scrapes dotting his hands, arms, and face. In moments, Quatre had the collar securely adjusted, and was helping Heero roll Duo onto a backboard. As they settled the braided Driver onto the sturdy plastic appliance, Duo groaned softly, and tried to bat their hands away.

"Be still, Duo," Heero said, feigning a calm that he didn't feel. "Let us help you."

" ...heero?" Duo croaked, amethyst eyes slowly blinking open to stare up at him.

"I'm here. You're hurt, Duo. Took a bad hit to your head. Your braid is fine," Heero assured him, heading off that question before Duo could fret about it. "But you have to go to the hospital to get checked out. You didn't wake up at first when I checked on you. Okay?"

Duo blinked again, in too much pain and still too dazed to make much sense of what was going on. But if Heero wanted him to do this thing, he would.

"sure, 'ro," he murmured in reply, trying to nod his head. He didn't get far with the collar on, but the tiny movement that he did manage sent a ballooning wave of pain racing through his brain. With a whimper of pain, Duo vowed to himself to simply shut his eyes and be as still as possible.

"We have to strap you down to this board, Duo," Heero continued, trailing a soothing fingertip across Duo's bruised brow. "You all right with that?"

" ...be still... I pr'mise," Duo murmured, feeling the world start to slip away again.

With Quatre's efficient help, they quickly had Duo secured to the board, ready for transport.

"We have to wait to see who else needs to go," Quatre explained. "I don't know how many ambulances we can get here or how fast."

Heero let the soldier within him take his temper by the throat, silencing his anxiety with nothing more than a curt nod.

"Did you realize that you have a piece of steel embedded in your shoulder?" Quatre asked conversationally as he stood and offered Heero a hand up.

Blinking in surprise, the Japanese firefighter took a moment to actually take stock of his own injuries. Just as Quatre had said, there was a pencil thin sliver of steel protruding from his left shoulder. Shifting, Heero could feel it digging deep into the muscles of his upper chest. Before Quatre could stop him, he grasped the sliver and yanked it out, biting off a curse as the larger, jagged edge came free.

"How bad is it?" he asked, tossing the piece away as he and Quatre headed towards the next limp body.

"You'll live."

"Not me. This," Heero replied, indicating the whole scene with a quick wave of his hand.

"Bad," was Quatre's clipped answer.

Heero had never heard the normally cheerful blonde sound so grim. Across the parking lot, Medic 4 was loading up a pair of boards loaded with bodies still half dressed in bunker gear. Not far away, Trowa was standing from another body, pausing to drape a bunker coat over the still figure's face. Beyond him, Zechs stood amidst the chaos, speaking tersely into his radio, and directing those few ambulatory firefighters to care for the injured. Hilde appeared beside him then, a hasty bandage of strips torn from her nomex hood tied about her forehead, the center already dyed crimson.

Quatre waved him over to where he knelt next to the Driver from Truck 2. With the fierce grimace of pain and the soot, grime, and blood, it took Heero precious seconds to recognize Walker. Everyone wore a mask of sweat, blood, ash, and disbelief.

He helped Quatre move Walker onto another backboard, carefully cradling the Driver's messily fractured Femur as they rolled him onto the board. With practiced ease, Quatre snapped the straps in place, and then called for Trowa.

"I want to get Walker and Duo in to the hospital ASAP," he explained to Heero, directing him to help carry Walker, board and all, over to where the battle scarred Medic 6 waited. "This leg can't wait, and I'm not happy about Duo's level of consciousness."

Heero nodded in relief, letting Trowa hop up into the back of the ambulance before he and Quatre slid Walker in onto the stretcher. Hopping up inside, they quickly moved Walker over onto the padded bench where the medic usually sat, and then went to get Duo.

The braided driver was unconscious once more, and didn't stir when they lifted him up into the ambulance. Heero made to hop up inside with them, but Quatre shook his head and pushed him gently back out.

"They need you here, Heero. There's nothing you can do on the way to the hospital for him. We just need to get him there fast. You can help here, though. He'll be waiting for you."

Heero wanted to shout. He wanted to push Quatre out of the way and stay by Duo's side, but simply found himself nodding, his protests silent.

As if he could hear those unspoken denials, Quatre patted him gently on his uninjured shoulder, then hopped down out of the back of the ambulance and closed the doors. "Trowa will take good care of him," he said, slipping past Heero to hop into the driver's seat.

As Medic 6 glided out of the parking lot and out of site, Heero turned back to the scene. His Captain needed him. There was fire to extinguish.

* * *

"So what's the count to now?" Heero intoned quietly.

Trowa's fingers never paused as they skillfully wrapped the thick tape around Heero's chest, splinting his four fractured ribs. When he answered, it was quiet, subdued even for the normally soft spoken paramedic.

"Five."

"Who?"

"Investigator, Engine 12 Captain, Truck 2 Captain, Truck 2 firefighter, Engine 3 Driver," Trowa replied, securing the last of the tape with one of his trademarked knots. "Most of the rest will be out for a couple of weeks, injured. Like you."

"Any word on Duo yet?"

Trowa sighed, expecting the question, even though he'd already heard it three times in the last ten minutes since entering the small room they'd finally stuck Heero in at the ER. The nurses had evidently gotten sick of hearing the question, too, as they begged Trowa to go tape up Heero's ribs and bandage his shoulder where the doctor had put in fifteen stitches. None of the rest of the staff had wanted anything more to do with the impatient Japanese firefighter.

"Preliminary CT scan indicated a pretty good concussion, and he's going to need about thirty stitches in that shoulder. Other than that, I don't know any more than I did five minutes ago, Heero," Trowa replied patiently.

"Station 12 lost three out of six," Heero observed softly, flashing back to the grim determination on Hilde's face, and the agonized grimace on Walker's.

"Yeah."

"Where's Zechs?"

"They splinted up his fractured shoulder, and then he headed back out to the scene. Wufei's there investigating," Trowa said, folding tiredly into one of the stiff, ugly chairs beside Heero.

Heero nodded, guiltily glad that his Captain hadn't tracked him down to go back there with him. He wanted to be here when Duo got out of CT and they let Heero up to see him.

"Report's going to be a nightmare."

Trowa nodded, his bangs obscuring both eyes as he dropped his chin to his chest and sighed. "What the fuck happened?" he whispered.

"Hell."

"Go to hell," Duo said distinctly.

At least he thought he said it distinctly. With the pain and concussion garbling his speech, what actually came out was something more along the lines of, "graw tho awllh."

"That's what got us all into this mess in the first place, Duo," Quatre explained, gently cajoling his friend into consciousness. "But now you have to wake up. Otherwise the nice Doctor won't let you go home to rest. You'll have to stay here in that lumpy hospital bed, while Heero gets sent home to pace and fret because the nurses are all to scared to let him stay with you."

"H'ro?"

"Yes, Heero. He's waiting for you downstairs with Trowa. If you wake up enough to convince the Doctor that you aren't going to die on us tonight, he'll probably let Heero take you home to rest off this concussion. They need all the hospital beds they can get right now, so you have to wake all the way up now," Quatre said, raising the head of Duo's stretcher a little.

His efforts were rewarded when Duo opened his eyes and tried to sit up straighter. The braided Driver couldn't quite muffle the groan of pain that the bright lights gave him, but he at least didn't curl back up into a tight little ball again.

"Sucks."

"Yes, it does. You've got five minutes to wake up enough to convince the Doctor that you're coherent enough to not be a danger to yourself," Quatre instructed. "Otherwise, it won't. And that would really suck. Understand?"

Duo blinked a little as he followed that bit of uniquely Quatre logic to the end, an alarmed look crossing his face after a moment. Quatre grinned a little to himself as Duo straightened up on the stretcher, concentrating on waking up.

"Hey, Quatre?"

"Hm?"

"Why would they s'nd me home if Heero had'ta stay here when he got hurt like th's?" Duo asked, concentrating on not slurring too many of his words.

"Because Heero had a brain contusion. You've got a concussion, which isn't quite as bad. It may not feel like that right now, but with a little rest and some company to wake you up every hour or so, your head will clear up."

"Oh," Duo said, frowning. "Hate this place, Quatre."

"I know, Duo," the blonde paramedic murmured in response. He cast a critical eye over his friend, satisfied to see more lucidity creeping into Duo's expression with each moment that he was awake.

"I'm ready, Quatre," Duo said carefully. "Send him in. I wanna go home."

* * *

"I'll go see if they have your discharge papers ready, Heero," Trowa said an instant before Heero would have popped back up to his feet to start pacing again.

"Already have them," Quatre commented from the doorway, waving a sheaf of papers clutched in one hand.

"Duo!" Heero exclaimed a little more loudly than he had planned. He hopped down off the stretcher and strode over to the door where Quatre was now wheeling the bandaged Driver into the room in a wheel chair.

"I also have Duo's discharge papers," Quatre continued mildly as he stepped out of the way and positioned himself next to Trowa. "Heero, you're under orders to take it easy for at least the next week. Those ribs are fractured pretty good, and the Doc doesn't want to see you back here to replace the stitches in your shoulder. He said at least a couple of weeks. I know you better. I'll be happy if you can behave yourself for a week.

"As for Duo, he has to go home with you, or you with him," Quatre explained, hiding a little smile when Heero briefly glared at him. "You have to wake him up every hour or two for the next 24 hours. He's got a concussion, and a pretty good lump on the back of his skull. They wanted to trim his hair a little to stitch it up, but I wouldn't let them. Therefore he's got to stay bandaged for a few days while the laceration heals up. Nothing too strenuous," he warned, smirking, "for the next 36 hours."

Trowa nudged his partner in the ribs gently with his elbow, his too-calm expression giving him away. Quatre merely smiled a little wider.

"Unfortunately, since you have a concussion, the docs don't want to give you too much in the way of pain meds for the first day or so, so that the meds don't mask any symptoms they didn't spot yet. If you start feeling-"

"I know the drill, Quatre," Duo interrupted impatiently. "Can we get out of here now?"

Heero nodded sharply, echoing Duo's sentiments.

"I wondered how long you were going to last," Trowa remarked. "We'll run you back to the station in the ambulance."

"I wanna go to the waiting room, first. We still got Brothers here. And Zechs is still at the scene," Duo said quietly.

Heero's eyes darkened, and he nodded curtly. Trowa and Quatre fell into place beside him as he guided Duo's wheel chair out the door and down the hall. Just beyond a set of swinging doors, a handful of figures in black-stained bunker pants milled aimlessly about. Discarded cups of cold coffee lay scattered about the room, a few still clutched in nerveless hands. Subdued murmurs of welcome greeted them, though no one offered to maintain eye contact for long.

Duo felt a little sick to his stomach at the defeated miasma filling the room. These were firemen. They didn't roll over for anyone. Firemen always won, right?

A door in the opposite wall swung open and Hilde entered, a fresh, clean bandage wrapped around her brow. As she swung her bunker coat to the floor in a corner, Duo noted that the left sleeve of her T-shirt had been cut off, and another clean bandage was wrapped around her bicep.

"Muller's in ICU. He just came out of surgery. They got him all stitched back together, but he's still burned pretty bad. They aren't going to let anyone up to see him for a while. Tomorrow maybe. Alex is still in surgery. He lost a lot of blood, but the nurse said the Docs are optimistic since he's not burned as bad," she recited, detailing the condition of the firefighters from Engine 7 and Engine 3. "Walker's up in recovery. They had to put a BAR [4] in his leg to get it all back together again. He lost a lot of blood, too, but not as bad as Alex. Nurse said that we should be able to see him in about ten minutes or so, but he's gonna be doped up on Morphine."

As the other guys nodded and murmured quietly to themselves, Duo stood up carefully from his wheel chair and crossed over to Hilde. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, though her jaw was set stubbornly, and her shoulders were square. Duo reached up carefully, wrapping his arms around her.

"I'm sorry, sis," he whispered gently, "Your Captain was a good guy. I'm gonna miss him, too. Gonna miss all of them."

She laid her head on his shoulder, arms coming up stiffly to return the hug. He could feel her trembling, holding onto her dignity with tooth and nail.

"We gotta find out who did this, Duo. They gotta pay."

"I swear to you, Hilde. They will."

They simply held each other silently for several long minutes after that. Eventually, Hilde disentangled herself, reassuming her mantle of calm control.

"The Chief's already called in guys to cover all our positions for the rest of the night, and we're all on leave for the next three shifts at least. There's nothing you can do here for a while. Zechs is back at the scene. Go take care of him, bro."

"Yes, m'am," Duo replied, backing away. Just before he turned away, he cast a searching look over the female firefighter. "Get some rest sometime, sis."

"You, too," Hilde replied as Duo led Heero, Trowa, and Quatre back through the swinging doors.

* * *

Wufei wiped his gloved hand off on his bunkers absently, filing away his thoughts for later categorizing into his notes. Around him, large generators supplied power to dozens of halogen quartz lights illuminating the scene. Turning his head, Wufei glanced back towards the Investigations van parked just beyond the rings of light. Through the driver's open window, he could just make out Zechs' form in the passenger seat, chin tucked against his chest and head resting against his own window. Though shadows shrouded most of his features, Wufei could read the exhaustion permeating every cell of his lover's body, and hoped that Zechs was actually napping, rather than simply resting with his eyes closed. If only he could have convinced the stubborn man to go home and get real rest. Wufei would be here for hours yet.

"Investigator Chang?" a fresh faced young police officer called.

With a sigh, Wufei rose to his feet, turning towards the soft call. Well past the policeman who'd called him, the Coroner oversaw the loading of the last of the dark black bags into the back of another ambulance.

Bastards. Whoever did this would meet justice if it took Wufei the rest of his life. He would see them pay.

"This way, sir," the young cop said diffidently as Wufei approached. "One of the detectives found something he wants you to look at in the steam tunnels."

"Lead on."

As Wufei vanished into a hastily erected tent over a narrow stairway, another ambulance pulled up and parked beside the Investigations van. The back doors opened admitting Heero and Duo to the scene, even as Trowa and Quatre hopped out of the front cab. In the van beside them, Zechs lifted his head, eyeing them all with a frown as he slowly climbed out to meet them.

"What are you all doing here?" he asked, voice rough with the late hour and the abuse he'd put it through earlier.

"Our Captain's here," Heero replied.

"And there's not much we can do back at the hospital," Duo added.

"You should go home. Rest. The Chief has relieved all of you for the next few shifts," Zechs admonished.

"Pot? Kettle? Black?" Duo shot back, though the effect his bandage had on trying to arch his brow turned out somewhat more humorous than he'd intended. Despite that, Zechs' expression didn't change.

"When Wufei is ready."

"We'll go home in a little while, Zechs, but for now... we want to be here," Trowa said, a sentiment which everybody echoed with sharp nods.

"Hilde talked to the doc before we left," Duo said, shifting to lean against Heero a little. "Muller's in ICU, out of surgery but burned. Alex was still in surgery, but not burned as bad. Walker got a BAR for his leg, but should be okay."

Zechs nodded, leaning back against the bumper of the van and crossing his arms to stare out over the scene morbidly.

Several minutes passed in silence before Wufei reappeared from the small tent. His dark eyes instantly picked out the ambulance parked next to the van and the figures gathered in front. Thanking the young man who had guided him down into the tunnels and back, Wufei picked his way carefully across the debris field to his friends.

"You should all be home resting," he scolded.

"What happened here, Wufei?" Heero asked bluntly, reading something in the Investigator's expression that the other's hadn't seen yet.

"It's an open investigation, Yuy," Wufei tried to bluff, wishing the Japanese firefighter were a little less astute.

"And we all nearly got killed tonight, Chang. Some of them did die. What happened?"

With a muttered curse, Wufei turned and stared back over the scene again. Taking a breath, he faced them all again and leaned in. "I don't know enough yet. I'm working it out, but parts have been discovered that could be part of a large explosive incendiary device. I've got some different forensics experts coming in to take samples."

"It was a trap," Heero breathed.

"The other two Generals. They were just a diversion to thin out manpower here, weren't they?" Zechs guessed.

"That's the current theory," Wufei admitted reluctantly.

"Theory?" Duo hissed. "Wufei, guys died tonight..."

"Damnit, what do you want me to say? That there's a madman out there trying to kill us and our friends, and I haven't figured out how to catch him yet?" Wufei demanded in a harsh growl. "That I don't have any real proof of it other than some unconnected fire scenes and a gut feeling, and the Chief of Police has already threatened to take this case out of Arson's hands, thus guaranteeing that we may never see real justice done?"

"It's not your fault, Wufei," Quatre said softly.

"It is," Wufei contradicted sharply, "And if I don't start figuring things out damned soon, more of us will die."

"They won't," Heero declared. "The cops won't take this away from us, and we," he continued, emphasizing the last word with a wave of his hand that included them all, "Will find whoever did this and make it right again."

Wufei met Heero's determined gaze with one of his own, deep ocean blue crackling against ebony, daring him to refute the statement. Relief flooded through the Chinese Investigator.

"Then you need to get out of my scene so I can get back to work," he finally said, voice weary, though sure. "Quatre, you and Trowa will make that stubborn, infernal Captain go as well, even if you have to hog tie him and drag him home with you. We will all meet tomorrow afternoon - this afternoon, actually, at Duo's house to discuss what I find out tonight. Until such time, I don't want to see your ugly faces here anymore. Is that understood?"

Zechs frowned, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly, though the others nodded.

"You are," Wufei growled, stabbing Zechs in the chest with a fingertip, "damn well going to go home. Our home, with them, I don't care. But you are leaving here, going someplace with a bed, and getting some god-damned rest. Otherwise you can resolve yourself to sleeping in a very lonely bed for the next several weeks. I need you clear headed to make up for me tomorrow. Do I make myself clear, Captain Marquise?"

Zechs opened his mouth as if to argue, then thought better of it as the whole of Wufei's guttural threats sorted themselves out. With a grumble and a glare, he finally nodded sharply, clearly still not happy but unwilling to risk his lover's wrath.

"Can I trust you to go home, or do I need to make someone baby-sit you?"

"I'll go. I'll stay there until you get home. Just as long as you promise not to do anything stupid yourself," Zechs replied, crossing his arms again.

"Fine," Wufei sighed, rubbing his temple, "Noin will be here as soon as she's finished with the other scene. Now, will you all get out of here so I can get back to work?"

Silent nods were his only answer, and everyone turned to file back to the ambulance. Zechs paused before slipping around to the rear doors.

"It wasn't your fault, Wufei."

"I'll see you later in the morning. Thirteen hundred hours [5] at Duo's. Remind them."

With a sigh, Zechs simply nodded and vanished into Medic 6. Wufei didn't turn back to watch as the ambulance slipped away into the darkness of the night. There was still too much work to be done.

* * *

End Part 25

Notes:  
[1] full thickness burns - once known as Third Degree burns, these burns penetrate all layers of skin and into the muscles. Typically, the burn itself doesn't hurt, as all the nerve endings in the upper layers of skin are gone. The edges of the burn, however, which surface to the upper layers of the skin, can and will be incredibly painful. Burn mortality rates are typically figured by taking the degree of burn (1st, 2nd, 3rd) and multiplying by 10. Add this number to the percentage of the body that is burned, and that is the patient's chance of *dying*, not surviving. (so a person with full thickness burns over 70% of his or her body would have a 100% chance of dying - 3 x 10 + 70 = 100. Not an ironclad rule, but a general guideline.)

[2] PASS Device - each firefighter is now required to be fitted with a small motion sensitive device. Some of them are activated manually - turn it on when in use - while others are integrated into the air packs - when the firefighter turns on his or her air supply, the PASS device activates automatically. If the PASS device, and thusly the firefighter, remain motionless for 30 seconds, a warning tone will begin to sound. After another 10 seconds of inactivity, the PASS device will go into full alarm. This is usually a high pitched, piercing whistle or scream that alerts other firefighters that one of their Brothers or Sisters is down and most likely incapacitated in some way. The whistling tone in the background of many of the pieces of 9-11 footage after the collapse of one or both Towers is a prime example of the alarm of a typical PASS device. The alarm may also be triggered manually if a firefighter knows that he or she is in, or about to get into, a lot of trouble, and doesn't want to have to wait 40 seconds for help.

[3] IC - Incident Commander. This is the guy in charge of the whole scene.

[4] BAR - Big Ass Rod. EMT speak for a steel surgical appliance inserted into the shaft of a long bone to stabilize really bad fractures. This appliance will never be removed, and will become part of the patient's bone. Very similar to a BAP or Big Ass Plate used to stabilize fractures in larger bones such as shoulder, pelvis or skull.

[5] thirteen hundred hours - military time for 1 pm. 12 am through 12 pm is 0000 hours through 1200 hours, with 1 pm through 11 pm being 1300 hours through 2300 hours.


	27. Chapter 26

The silence rattled around the large house as Zechs slid sideways through the front door, too tired and beat down to even bother with opening it fully. In the front room, the old grandfather clock that had thus far managed to somehow follow him throughout his many moves tolled the unholy hour of 2 am. As the deep bongs of the chimes resonated through the house, echoing painfully in his skull, Zechs irritatedly wondered why he bothered carting that damned familial relic around anymore. In the last move, it was Wufei who insisted on making sure the monstrosity came with them, standing back to watch as Zechs helped the movers wrestle it onto a dolly and up the ramp into the truck. It was big, unwieldy, ugly, and always seemed to howl like a dead thing and keep him awake deep in the night when what he needed was rest.

No, what he really needed was Wufei. Here. Now. In his arms, safe. Safe and... strong.

Zechs sighed, suppressing the urge to curl his arms around himself, stifling his silent wish that his lover were there to do that for him, or to ask for Zechs to return the favor. Well, as best as he could return a comforting hug right now, with his shoulder splinted up immobile to protect the fractures.

That damned clock was still ugly, though. Why Wufei liked it was beyond Zechs.

With a disgruntled sigh, Zechs tromped off to the bedroom and the master bath, intending on attempting a quick shower before tumbling into the big, empty bed. Standing at the doorway, staring over their neatly arranged comforters and blankets, the corners as precise and exact as the bedding in a five star hotel or a hospital bed would be, Zechs sighed in defeat and simply shed his clothing, leaving it all in a trail from the doorway to the bed. It just wasn't worth the trouble to try to take a one-armed shower alone, and then climb into a cold bed. Wufei would be able to help him clean up in the morning, and Zechs had the feeling that his lover would need as much comforting as he himself needed physical reassurance. Lying there in the slowly warming sheets, Zechs' mind kept racing over the details of the fire, the sensation of wrongness from the moment the tones came in to that last horrible flash, Otto backlit against hell.

Rage welled up within him. Whoever was responsible... they had to pay for this. Somehow. Some way. The tears he hadn't allowed himself on the scene started slowly leaking from his eyes, slipping down his cheeks to pool in the ripples and folds of his platinum hair and burgundy cotton pillowcase.

" ...bastards... " The harsh rumble of that whisper would have shocked him if he weren't already exhausted beyond caring. He'd be paying for the abuse he put his voice through for days, but it hardly mattered; he was officially off duty until his shoulder healed. Weeks.

It occurred to Zechs suddenly that not needing to report to duty every third day for a few weeks would allow him to more closely help Wufei with this investigation. As the silent tears slowed and then finally stopped at that comforting thought, sleep finally rose out of the darkness and snatched him away.

* * *

bastards.

He clutched his head, shaking it in a vain bid to ease the pain spiking through his brain. All that the movement did was make his disjointed thoughts rattle even more for a moment before that perfect clarity that came from his flame returned to him.

The wickedness and evil in the world, it had to stop. His knights...

He clutched his head again, tears slipping unheeded down his cheeks for a moment. His beautiful Knights. Oh his beautiful Knights, slain and wounded, ambushed by a demon. Demons must be wiped from this world. Demons brought the wickedness and evil with them from the dark dens of hell that they crawled from. The demons must all be slain.

But how? The demons were too powerful, it seemed, to outright attack. If one could find them, that is. Demons were tricky, hateful, slimy, evil things, more suited to hiding in the crevices and cracks of the imperfect human soul than to honest open confrontation.

The imperfect human soul... the imperfect...

His head snapped up, staring about him with wide eyes, seeing the filth and degradation of the world. There was no light here. Too many imperfect souls polluted and fouled the world for the perfect light of his Knights to filter through. These wicked, imperfect, tainted souls needed cleansing. His Knights needed a beckon to find this wickedness, to root it out from the world and cast it back into the pits of hell where it belonged. Where the demons belonged.

Evil. Hateful. Bastards. Filth.

His hands were trembling. The rage, that siren's song of hate and righteous anger trilled along his own soul, guiding him. It hummed in his brain, both clouding it with pain and clearing the filth from his vision. The world was a red haze and shadows. Darkness curled around the edges of his sight, threatening to swallow him whole.

No. No, no, no, no. NO! That wouldn't do.

The gasoline smelled almost sweet in his nostrils, like the faintest hint of sun-baked Elysium grasses, the fruit of Ambrosia upon the back of his tongue, sunshine and raindrops and children's untainted laughter. Yes. Yes, this would do the trick.

He kicked the now empty can against the far wall, listening with satisfaction as the plastic rattled and rumbled as it struck the crumbling plaster. Oh, quiet, not too loud now, or else the demons sleeping within these pitiful tainted slumbering souls would awaken. Imperfect, wasted, blunted, forgotten. They were nothing more than a breeding ground for evil, these imperfect, tainted souls. Huddled in their squalid filth and sinful indulgence, they harbored fragments of the wickedness of the world, hiding it from the purification of light and flame and righteousness.

Righteousness. He licked his lips, tasting that word upon the blood he found there. Blood and fire and rage and sorrow washed away in light and flame and purity and his Knights... his beautiful Knights.

Quiet now. So quiet, silent seeping creeping howling wailing softly now. The fumes rose from the floor, from the pool of amber liquid seeping into the broken boards and collected trash. One of the wicked stirred a little in her drug induced stupor, barely registering the acrid reek of the fuel that even now pooled before every door and window. Almost time now. Creeping, sneaking, waiting, patient patient patient.

He giggled at that thought, amused by the double entendre, and how it would never be fulfilled as long as his flame, his beckon of purity, his cleansing fire did its ordained duty.

The flame leapt to life clutched between his sooty fingertips. His Knights... his heart... A spasm shot through his soul, clutching his heart in a vice-like grip. His hand twitched, and the guttering match slipped to the floor. He had to leap back as the fuel caught the kiss of life with a soft roar, like the sound of a body striking dusty packed earth. Almost too soon, too close. The demons were trying to claw their way into his soul, too.

Can't let that happen. No, no, no. Demon eyes flickered to life across the flames, blinking awake, peering through the haze of dancing gold and raging red. Smoke billowed down from the ceiling, those eyes casting about frantically for escape and finding none. Demon voices raised in panic and wrath and fear, thwarted, trapped by the flames. Quiet now. So quiet. Crackle roar sputter burn. Yes.

The heat drove him back, ashes drifting down from the ceiling to settle in his hair. Demon voices crying out in pain and fear, sweet, sweet music. Demon eyes vanishing behind a curtain of purifying flame, the most perfect work of art. Wickedness being purged from this little corner of the world.

His Knights... The faintest wail of their steeds on the wind. Time to leave. Time to return to the silence and the darkness to wait until his Knights needed him again.

As he slipped away down a shadowed alleyway, the flames burst from their prison behind him, bringing a smile to his lips. Run, demons. Run. Can you hear the hounds of fire shrieking at your heels? And when you are caught, righteous purification will free your wickedness, and return light to the world.

And he would shepherd his Knights through the valley of darkness unto the plains of salvation.

* * *

Wufei grumbled tiredly to himself as he sorted through the various bags, tubes, and sample jars that Noin was helping him to label before shipping off to the ATF forensic lab. Noin spared him a glance as she noted the time and date on the tube in her hand and then racked it with the rest of them. She knew better than to offer any useless platitudes; it was all still too raw. Perhaps after a solid day's sleep or so, Wufei would be willing to hear the lip service of might-have-beens and thank-the-ancestors-that-it-wasn'ts that anyone else might have been trying to pawn off on them both now. For now, comments like that would likely earn the offender a snarled litany of the sexual exploits of their ancestors from both Noin and Wufei. Most of which would have been anatomically impossible for anyone but a truly gifted contortionist, and would have had PETA and the NRA up in arms screaming bloody murder.

Noin winced privately as she selfishly gave thanks that Sally had a relatively safe job in the ER instead of something more dangerous like field medic or firefighter. Noin knew that if it had been *_her_* lover here when the warehouse blew and the radios suddenly went dead, she would have been a basket case until she'd managed to get here.

"I'm assuming that you've got a brain storming session scheduled with the guys later," she said, more a statement than a question.

Wufei grunted an affirmative, adding the final notations to the last evidence bag before adding it to the growing pile of items bound for the ATF experts.

"Need any help?" Noin asked, already knowing what the answer would be but needing to make the offer anyway. She wasn't surprised when Wufei shook his head.

"Go home to your mate. Prove to her that you are still alive. Rest. We'll compare notes when we are both fresh in another day. Neither of us will do anyone any good until then."

Noin winced to herself again. She hadn't heard that dull, almost dead tone of his voice since the last time he spoke of Meiran. She reached out and gently laid her sooty hand upon his forearm, drawing his gaze up to her face for the first time that night.

"He's alive, Wufei. He will not allow himself to die on you," she murmured softly, watching as the familiar fierce spark lit in the depths of his ebony regard. "I have faith in you. Both of you. Justice will be done."

His expression never even flickered, and he remained silent, his eyes locked onto her own for several long moments. She continued to watch him as thoughts played themselves out hidden behind that cool stare. Noin shivered, not used to being totally unable to read the Chinese investigator. It was eerie, as if he were not staring at her, but rather through her, conversing with his ancestors and spirits beyond mortal ken and she was merely a portal to that other world, or maybe less. A wisp of fog, perhaps. Finally, when it seemed that if the moment stretched on for even a single second longer that she would go mad and run screaming back to Sally to dream of dragons and monsters that raged through the night, Wufei nodded curtly once.

He tore his gaze away, standing and offering her a hand up which she gratefully accepted. She had just opened her mouth to thank him when she was interrupted by the shrill tones cutting over the radio indicating yet another general alarm. The harried dispatcher announced the address, a well-known flophouse over on the rougher side of town, and seemed to stutter through the list of rigs going on the call, as if he was having a hard time dredging up enough able bodies and equipment to make the call. With the beating they'd taken that night, he probably was.

Wufei's shoulders slumped and he heaved a sigh of resignation as he gathered up the box of labeled evidence and turned towards his van. Noin stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

"No, Wufei. Go home. Get some rest. You've already got two cases from tonight. I'll take this one," she offered, though it was more of an order.

Wufei straightened, squaring his shoulders stubbornly as if he were going to fight her, but that faraway look entered his eyes again, making the hairs on the back of Noin's neck stand on end. Wufei's shoulders slumped, not with defeat, but with exhaustion, relief, and oddly, pride that he was able to admit that he frankly didn't want to go to another fire, a third fire, in less than 12 hours. Once again he nodded curtly, once, and then turned towards his van.

"Noin," he intoned gravely, pausing to stare at her over his shoulder. "If it seems... strange," he said, indicating the fire she would be en route to shortly, "forward your notes on to me, please."

She speared him with a searching look. "You got a hunch again?" she asked, feeling a chill steal through her.

Wufei still had that look in his eyes that bespoke a communion with somewhere else, some when else, a place she couldn't even comprehend. He suddenly blinked, coming back to the here and now with a sheepish clearing of his throat. "I'm probably just being paranoid."

Noin nodded anyway, indicating that she would send him any notes she made on this new investigation. As they bid each other farewell and returned to their individual vehicles, Noin couldn't help but shudder again in anticipated dread.

She didn't need to tell him that it only counted as paranoia if his hunches never came true.

* * *

Trowa shifted, just surfacing from sleep like a fish that had jumped too far from a stream before falling back clumsily to the safer depths. As he rolled over, his arm encountered the now cool spot in the sheets that Quatre's body should have occupied. That startled him from semi-consciousness to full wakefulness and he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His breath hissed from his lungs as the cool floor rudely met his warm feet, killing any chance that he may have had for drifting back to sleep. After a few moments fumbling in the darkness of the pre-dawn gloom, Trowa finally located his boxers from where Quatre had flung them a mere few hours ago. His robe was still hung haphazardly on the bedpost, and he shrugged it on to guard against the gooseflesh rising along his arms as he stood up.

With a yawn, Trowa slowly padded out to the kitchen, expecting to find his lover seated at the table nursing a comforting cup of tea. He palmed the living room light on as he passed, unwilling to face the garish glare of the fluorescent kitchen lights. In the soft, warm glow, he picked out the expected cup sitting at Quatre's normal place at the table, but instead of the blonde paramedic, there was only a folded scrap of paper.

The Earl Grey was already cold when Trowa sipped at it as he picked up the note. It was also brewed about twice as strong as Quatre normally liked his tea, bitter enough to make Trowa gag on the first sip. He absently turned and dumped the rest into the sink as he scanned the note from Quatre.

"I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. I should be back before you wake up, but if not, don't worry; I just went out for a walk to clear my head. I didn't want to bother you. I'll be careful, I promise.

"Cathy called sometime last night before we got home. There are several messages for you on the answering machine. She heard about It on the news and is upset. You should call her if you wake up before I get back.

"Love you."

Trowa sighed as he glanced at the answering machine. Sure enough, the message light was blinking, and the LCD was lit up with the number "6". He set the note down and hit the playback button, only half paying attention to his sister's frantic voice demanding him to call her as soon as he got the messages. All six of them.

The rest of his attention was taken up by Quatre. His sensitive little lover was considerate to a fault, but just this once, Trowa wished that Quatre had been "rude" enough to wake him up. He would have liked to join him on that walk, to talk out his anger and frustration with the other paramedic. To commiserate, comfort, and be comforted. To be thankful.

Trowa would never explain to Yuy just how close they had all come to losing not only Quatre, but Duo as well. If Duo had not stepped away from Engine 8 when he had to yell for Trowa and Quatre to go chase Otto down, if Quatre had not ducked back behind Medic 6 when he had to grab his bunker coat to run after the mad/magnificent Investigator... The explosion would have thrown both firefighter and paramedic into their respective rigs, most likely killing each of them on impact. A chill raced down Trowa's spine at that thought. He wasn't sure what he would do without his lover, and the thought of depriving Heero of Duo sent a dread stab of terror down Trowa's spine from his throat to his balls. Whoever this mad arsonist was would have a very limited lifespan in that event.

And so would half the city.

There was something feral and barely contained within the Japanese firefighter's eyes when he first saw Duo's crumpled form lying on the cracked blacktop. Thankfully, while Quatre was fully aware of how close a thing it had been, Duo's head injury seemed to have shielded him from that knowledge. Trowa shook his head; he would not be the one to tell Yuy just how close it had been. He had no desire to have that malevolent, draconic gaze turned on him.

With a sigh, Trowa turned towards the phone. Cathy was likely to flay him alive for waiting this long to call her, but he'd been more intent on verifying that Quatre was gloriously alive in every way when they first tumbled through the door to worry about anything as trivial as making sure his sister knew he was safe. Unbidden, a faint smile flitted across Trowa's lips; he'd best wear a turtleneck to Duo's later. Quatre, the little minx, had apparently needed a blood sample or three to make sure Trowa was fine as well.

He was just picking the cordless phone up from the cradle when a pair of headlights turned into the driveway and distracted him. He dropped the phone again as the familiar purr of the Stingray rumbled into the garage. Trowa let out the breath he hadn't even realized that he was holding, and turned to put the kettle back on the stove. He was just getting out a fresh pair of cups when the door into the garage opened and Quatre slipped through, blinking a little as the warm yellow light from the living room fell across him. A sack from Trowa's favorite bakery rustled in Quatre's hands as he closed the door behind him.

Trowa silently crossed the room and took Quatre into his arms, resting his chin on top of the tussled golden locks of Quatre's hair. They stood there in silence for a while, long enough for the kettle to start steaming, before Trowa finally spoke.

"Feel better?"

"I am now," Quatre said with a sigh, tightening his arms around his lover. "I picked up some of your favorite scones."

Trowa couldn't quite contain the foolish little smile that welled up from within him. Considerate to a fault. "I've water on the stove for tea," he finally replied, tucking his chin to drop a kiss on the top of Quatre's head. "We can have tea and scones for breakfast before we go take a shower." He inhaled deeply, his arms tightening around Quatre a fraction more. "We both still smell of fire."

"And then maybe a blanket on the couch?" Quatre said hopefully, turning his seemingly innocent gaze up towards Trowa.

Trowa's smile widened into a wry grin. Quatre, as Trowa was quite intimately acquainted with, was no more innocent than Duo was, but the pair of them could give a performance to yank the heartstrings with those wide, expressive eyes of theirs. "You brew the tea," Trowa replied with a feigned sigh, "I'll go put the music in the stereo."

Quatre smiled, one that finally seemed to reach all the way to his eyes, as he kissed Trowa quickly and then slipped out of his arms to go get the tea ready.

That was more like it, Trowa thought to himself. The world may be going mad, but as long as they all had each other, hope was not lost.

* * *

Wufei swore he could feel his own joints creaking as he slowly slid from the driver's seat of his Jeep. The Investigations van was now once again parked in the lot by the Arson offices, all boxes, vials, bags, and tagged evidence safely repackaged and delivered to a courier service downtown. The ATF labs should receive everything by this afternoon, and his contact there had assured him that everything would be expedited through the lab itself for a quick turnaround. Hopefully they could find him something useful, something that would help he and Noin put this sociopath away, and soon.

Before any more Brothers were killed.

The metal edge of his keys dug into his hand as he balled up his fists. Wufei could feel the muscles of his shoulders and back yet again turning into tight steel bands even as he tried vainly to invoke some of the old meditation techniques his Masters had once taught him to control his anger.

Gods above, it had been too damned close.

Hilde and a couple of the other survivors had briefly returned to the scene to update those still working on the prognosis of Mueller, Alex, and Walker. It had given Wufei a chance to interview a few of them before potentially vital but insignificant seeming details had been lost. Remembering the look of shock and horror in the eyes of the survivors as they recounted watching the very gates of hell open up before them all... sent cold waves of terror down Wufei's spine. Hilde wouldn't even describe what she'd seen. She'd been staring right at Zechs and Heero at the instant everything exploded, and all she would say was that God had abandoned them. Investigation or no, Wufei hadn't had the heart to press for further details. Or rather, if he were being honest, he hadn't the courage. She was still too raw.

The muffled tolling of the clock inside interrupted his introspection, and he found himself standing on the porch, forehead pressing into the wood of the door he was leaning on.

Too damned close.

He shifted his grip on his keys and unlocked the door, slipping inside before any of the too curious neighbors could catch him standing on his front porch, closer to dissolving into a shaking, hyperventilating, cold sweat than he ever remembered being. The door latched quietly behind him, and he threw the bolt home, locking out the world.

If only locking out his inner demons was so easy.

He sighed and tossed his keys onto the small table just beside the door, ignoring how the last fading echoes of the clock's chimes seemed to make the silence rattle around in his skull that much more. Why Zechs insisted on dragging that damned familial relic around was beyond the Chinese investigator, but if it made him happy, Wufei wasn't about to insist that he leave it behind.

Even if it was an ugly bit of antique monstrosity.

He kicked off his shoes at the door, leaving them on the mat, and then padded soft footed towards the back of the house and their shared bedroom. His eyes had long since adjusted to the darkness of starless pre-dawn, so the digital display on the coffee pot in the kitchen seemed almost garish as he passed the doorway. O-fucking-dark-hundred hours, as Duo would say. Too god damned late.

Too damned late.

He would not allow himself to fail. He would not allow himself to be late again. No more Brothers would die. Or Sisters. A momentary flash of Hilde, all light and inner fire extinguished, flashed through his brain, calling forth a thick growl from the pit of his stomach. He would not fail them.

His toes encountered a soft lump in the middle of the hallway just in front of the open bedroom door. Pausing, Wufei stooped and picked it up. In the soft glow of a small nightlight, Wufei examined Zechs' jacket as it hung limply in his fingers, and, despite the dourness of his mood, a fractional smile flitted across his features. Just beyond the doorway lay a crumpled shirt, and beyond that, the tangled knot of his lover's pants. There were a couple of smaller, less distinct lumps between the slacks and the bed where Zechs lay curled on his uninjured side under the burgundy comforter.

Wufei tiptoed silently across the room to the bed, sitting on the edge carefully to avoid waking his lover. For several long minutes, all he could do was stare down at Zechs' slumbering form, dark eyes traveling from one bandaged shoulder to the spill of platinum hair across the pillow, and finally resting on the pinched features, drinking his presence in as a blind man, newly healed, would drink in his first sunrise. He reached out, one fingertip just barely ghosting along a dark patch of bruise staining his lover's cheek. Ice blue eyes slid open, unerringly homing in on Wufei's gaze. Words without sound or substance passed between them, an eternity flashing through that instant. Wufei slid over, settling down on the bed, still fully clothed. The satin of the duvet felt cool under his fingers as he tucked himself against Zechs. Even through the bedding and his own clothes, Wufei could feel the heat of his lover's body against his back as he fitted himself to the curve of Zechs' body like a key to a lock. Zechs' uninjured arm under him came up across his chest and held him firmly in place. Wufei folded his arms around it, the faintest echo of a contented smile curving his lips. A dark bird fluttered up from the pit of his soul where it had been hiding in the ashes, a faint light flickering to life in its breast. He wondered at it for a few moments, at the feeling of bitter sweet power, as it cradled them both in its wings. It was only when he felt the secure darkness of sleep pulling him down that he could finally put a name to it-

Hope.

* * *

The streetlights rose and fell over Duo's form in the passenger seat like a slow pulse. The heartbeat of the city could be counted in the harsh glare of weathered gold and ghoulish white lights lining the streets. Heero glanced at his partner from the corner of his eye once each breath, as if to convince himself that Duo was here, with him, whole and alive in the sleek black muscle car. The engine rumbled, singing through the night in a stark counterpoint to the tension which filled the cabin of the car. Like the rumble of thunder accompanying the piquant piping of a soloist flute serenading the storm, there was a current between the two men that was nearly electric.

Duo rested with his head cushioned against his headrest, eyes closed and stark white bandage making his face seem even paler as the streetlights flashed over him. He kept his hands scrupulously folded in his lap, fingers twisted together as if he didn't trust even a single digit a moment of freedom. His braid lay over his shoulder, draped across his chest like a bandolier, accentuating the rise and fall of his breath enough that Heero could easily pick out each exhale from his stolen glances.

Heero gripped the wheel tightly, his attention split, mostly on Duo, just enough on his driving to keep them both on the road and thank god there was no other traffic to compete with, and the rest on his thoughts, circling around in his brain disjointedly. Too close. Too close. Too god damned close. It was like someone out there was trying to send him a warning: "See? This is what happens when you dare to let someone in."

Heero growled to himself, the sound a sub-audible rumble that was thankfully lost in the purr of the 350 Chevy big block. *_I don't CARE!_* he screamed into the blankness within him defiantly, daring the Soldier to raise his ugly head and speak. *_I'm taking this chance! I want to be HAPPY for once, god damn it! No one is going to fucking take that away from me!_* Silence answered him as the Soldier wisely kept his mouth shut.

Heero had gone past caring that relationships were a weakness, caring a liability. A little corner of his brain still occupied by the Soldier commented tonelessly that he would pay for that decision later and that he'd better be prepared to face the cost, but Heero was done listening to that corner for the night. He was tired of looking over his shoulder, of living his life for some other entity that may or may not share brainspace with what he was coming to know as the *_real_* Heero. He was tired of still living his life for those asses at the Foundation, for the rest of the damned world. Tonight, at least, he was going to live his life for him and him alone. And Duo.

Duo's block loomed up ahead, and with what was becoming practiced ease, he turned into Duo's drive and slowly edged the Camaro into the garage. The engine gently coughed itself to silence as Heero turned the car off and removed the key. He turned to check on Duo, intending to offer to help the braided man out when he suddenly found his face gripped in preternaturally strong hands and his lips seized in a fierce, possessive kiss. Instinct overrode reason and he responded to that kiss, the growl rising from his loins once again, but without the benefit of the engine's rumble to drown it out. The deep pitched noise seemed to drive Duo on, and Heero found himself pressed back into his seat as Duo surged forward.

Duo's mobile hands worked their way into Heero's hair, using the dark locks as an anchor to hold his lover in place, though it was hardly necessary. One hand slipped away, reaching back absently to tilt the wheel up as far as it would go, then returned, working its way back into Heero's hair.

Heero dropped the keys, not caring where they landed, if they landed, or if the world opened up and swallowed them all, keys, car, garage, everything, as long as neither he nor Duo were ever separated. His hands wormed up under the loose shirt Duo had worn home from the hospital, and a distracted little corner of Heero's brain was surprised to note that somehow, Duo had managed to climb into his lap, straddling him. Heero groaned softly as his fractured ribs complained at the tight, cramped quarters, but he quickly shut out the pain, ignoring everything but the feel of Duo writhing against him, Duo's lips devouring his own, Duo's hands doing their level best to possess every inch of him, will he, nil he. One of those hands was suddenly at the snap of his jeans, working it free.

The world seemed to drop out from under Heero for a moment. Then his brain registered that it wasn't the world dropping away, but merely the seat back, which had fallen back under their combined weight when Duo had apparently tripped the recline lever on the side.

Duo's lips left his mouth and there was a sudden ripping sound before a searing wetness fastened itself hungrily upon Heero's left nipple and sucked. Hard. He gasped, fingers digging into the yielding flesh of Duo's abdomen. Teeth nipped at the nubbin of flesh in response, and Heero had to make a real effort to loosen his grip, to keep his hands relaxed as they ghosted over the flesh of Duo's stomach, chest, arms, shoulders under the shirt. The bandages felt rough under his fingertips, and Heero almost pulled away, suddenly remembering Duo's injuries.

Duo, however, had other ideas. Heero distantly heard another snarling sound, and his thin t-shirt suddenly slipped down his arms in two pieces, ripped neck to hem in both front and back. Duo, as if sensing Heero's ambivalence redoubled his efforts, switching to Heero's right nipple, teeth and lips and tongue painting a picture of exquisite pain across the Japanese man's nerves. Duo's back arched, grinding his pelvis down into Heero's trapped below him.

Heero's breath ripped from him, carrying away any half-formed ideas of slowing down to spare Duo any further injuries. He could feel Duo teething at the edges of his own bandages, the ones binding his splinted ribs, as if debating tearing them off as well to expose more delicious flesh to his oral demands. After a moment, however, Duo suckled his way up Heero's chest to his throat, leaving a half dozen small red marks in his wake. Vaguely, in the back of his mind where one sliver tried to cling to rational thought, Heero wondered why he wasn't seizing the initiative back, why he wasn't going on the offensive as well. When Duo's teeth fastened upon one of his earlobes, however, and those hands reached down past the now open zipper of his jeans and possessed the flesh there, that sliver of calm dissolved into a wisp of mist, blown away by the force that was Duo Maxwell.

Heero wasn't so much a passenger in his own head as he was a captive of the sensations that Duo was conquering him with. The braided man gave him no time for either thought or retaliation, possessing such a single-minded determination to have Heero that the Japanese firefighter scarcely found the strength the breathe, let alone do little more than feel. There was no force of nature powerful enough to compare Duo to at that moment, for even a hurricane contains an eye, a central focus of perfect calm. The closest thing Heero could think of was, perhaps, a supernova, but the heat was too intense even to be called heat anymore.

With a start, Heero suddenly felt the cool leather of the driver's seat upon his bare ass, and felt Duo's feet, suddenly as mobile and coordinated as his hands, working the legs of his jeans down past his ankles. Where the hell had his shoes gone? Fuck, it didn't even matter anymore. Duo was back, feasting on his mouth, and for a moment, Heero even tasted his own blood in the fierceness of that kiss. Absently, distantly, he felt his own hands working Duo's shirt up over his body, easing it past the bandages before flinging it into the back seat. Searing heat mated to his thighs as Duo shifted and wriggled out of his own pants, kicking them aside, never once breaking that kiss that was threatening to devour him from the inside out.

Duo broke away suddenly, leaning back over the passenger seat to open the glove box. Heero had almost enough time to draw a single cool breath into his lungs before Duo settled back over him again, an evil, unholy light in those amethyst eyes and a familiar tube clutched greedily in one hand. Heero was clearheaded enough to wonder just how long Duo had been dreaming of having his way with someone in his Camaro before he felt himself being manhandled into position and cool, slick fingers probing him. Despite the frenzied pace of it, those fingers were gentle, opening him slowly, stroking that breathless place within him higher and higher like a skydiver without the benefit of a chute. Heero thought his heart would burst of the tension singing through him. Duo's free hand fastened itself around the base of his cock, squeezing hard, and Heero could feel his breath stutter and skip as his seed settled once again, just long enough for Duo to finish stretching him.

Heero's heart hammered against his fractured ribs, slamming against the walls of his chest like a jackhammer as he was once again shifted and moved about. The steering wheel felt curiously cold against his bare toes, in direct contrast to the burning heat rolling off of Duo's thighs under him. With a guttural cry that was part growl and part bane sidhe wail, Duo sheathed his cock in Heero's tight heat, the sensation as much pain as pleasure, and oddly all the more enormous and wonderful because of that. Heero could feel Duo trembling, soft sobs shaking the braided driver as he fought to control himself long enough to remember how to breathe again. Heero's eyes fluttered open and registered a faint scarlet stain seeping through Duo's bandage on his shoulder, though when his lover shifted below him, seating himself even deeper into Heero, he gave up trying to hold on, and simply let go. All he could do now was try not to burn up on reentry and tend Duo's reopened wounds when they tumbled back to Earth together.

Duo's hand around his shaft slowly loosened as he set a rhythmic pace and picked up speed. Soft grunts slowly resolved themselves into a nearly indecipherable litany of, "mine... mine... mine... " which Heero echoed silently, unable to even voice them aloud. The hand around his cock joined the dance, matching the rhythm, increasing the tempo to match the thunder of Heero's pulse in his ears. It was all he could stand.

With a burst like the implosion of a star, Heero came, his seed spilling between them, a choked cry ripping from his lips. He felt his body go rigid, gripping Duo like a lifeline as the climax ripped through him, dropping him into the heart of the sun, filling him from the inside like ambrosia. Hard on the heels of his cry, he felt Duo stiffen against him, felt Duo's cock within him jump and writhe against its imprisonment within Heero's demanding body. A cry, nearly identical to the one which Heero had uttered, ripped from Duo's lips as well, and Heero felt the warm flood of his lover's seed spill deep within him.

Many long minutes later when he could breathe and start to think again, Heero realized that Duo had collapsed against him, as spent and weak as a day old kitten. Not that Heero, himself, felt much more capable at that moment. He knew that he should move, that he should get them both out of the car and bundled into the house where they could at least stretch out comfortable together in a bed. Better yet, he should get Duo out and get his bandages checked and most likely replaced, and *_then_* they could curl up together, stretched out in bed where they wouldn't stiffen up from being twisted into awkward positions. He just didn't have the strength to put said plans into motion at the moment. And as Duo snuggled up against him, Heero found that he really didn't care that much after all, as long as Duo was this near.

"If you ever die on me, Yuy," Duo murmured wearily, "I'll fucking kill you. Got it?"

All Heero could do was nod and hit the garage door button. Belatedly, he wondered how many of the neighbors might have gotten a show. Then he quit caring again as Duo's breath evened out above him and darkness swooped in to claim his waking mind as well.


	28. Chapter 27

Slowly, as if surfacing from a great depth, Zechs clawed his way back to consciousness. He could feel Wufei, still fully dressed, still lying atop the bedding, spooned up in the hollow of his belly. Distantly, his shoulder ached, but it was a pale second to the ache in his heart. Wufei was taking last night's events hard, and there was nothing Zechs could do to soften the blow to his lover's confidence. It didn't matter that no one could have predicted the attack itself, let alone the violence of it - Wufei still considered the deaths of Otto and the others to be a personal failure. Perhaps even greater than the one that had cost Meiran her life. Wufei would still not let either of them leave an argument unfinished, never let either of them leave the other in anger like he had once upon a time with his young wife. Zechs had tried that once. Only once. He vowed he would never again come that close to breaking his lover's heart, for the look of fear and loss on Wufei's face that night had nearly broken his own.

He tucked his head down into the curve of the back of Wufei's neck, inhaling deeply, memorizing every tiny nuance of his lover's scent. He would not think about that, would not think about the previous night. He could feel a tight band circling his heart as he forcefully shoved the memory of Otto backlit against the flames away. Otto who, supporting the determined young Miliardo, helped him to stand up to his domineering father when he informed him that no, he would NOT be taking his "rightful place" at the head of the Peacecraft corporate empire when his father retired. That he would be striking out into the world on his own, thank you, to try and make a real difference. Otto, who smuggled meals to the grounded young heir for a few days until the lad had formulated his plan to take off as soon as he was old enough, leaving not even a note. Otto, who had eventually tracked the young Zechs down and informed him that his Father had disowned him, disinheriting him, and would not be mounting some crazy scheme to drag his errant heir home. Otto, who had stood by him through his trials and tribulations, always a watchful guard, but never trying to interfere in the life he had chosen. A silent guardian, always there, but never a crutch.

"There is no shame in grieving for an honorable soul," Wufei murmured quietly. Without waiting for a response, Wufei turned in Zechs' grasp, facing the blonde man and shifting up to wrap his arms around him. Zechs could feel the warmth of Wufei's breath atop his head as he held him tightly.

The band constricting Zechs' heart snapped and a wracking sob escaped him. He tucked his head into Wufei's chest and gave vent to the tears he'd only barely started to allow himself the night before in the cold, lonely bed. He could feel Wufei's hands as he gently stroked along his back, not so much trying to sooth as simply being there, a pillar of solidity to lean upon. No condemnation nor censure for his weak tears, no disappointment nor weariness for being leaned upon, pure strength that was strength because Wufei received as much comfort from holding Zechs as Zechs did from being held. Like opposing sides of an A-frame, each made secure by the other, each taking what the other had to offer purely because it was exactly what was needed at that moment. Zechs, a shoulder to lean on, Wufei to be strong enough to comfort his lover's loss. Finally, after a time, the tears slowed, spending themselves into the musky shirt Wufei still wore and leaving behind an oddly accepting peace. There was sorrow there, sorrow for the loss of his oldest friend, but released, unable to fester within him. Long minutes passed into silence leaving Zechs spent and breathless, quietly sheltered in the circle of Wufei's comforting arms.

"It wasn't your fault," he whispered fisting a handful of that damp shirt.

"I don't want to fail them."

"You won't." Looking up, Zechs met Wufei's quiet gaze. "We won't."

An odd look crept into those dark eyes, far away, as if Wufei was staring at a distant star. Zechs would not give him up to that other world, however, and simply held Wufei, watching him with his heart in his eyes. When Wufei returned to the here and now, what he read in his lover's gaze filled him with resolve, set him back upon his feet again. He nodded simply once, and then tucked his head to brush his lips briefly across Zechs'.

"She believes you, too."

That wasn't good enough for Zechs, and he shook his head. "Do you?" he demanded, hoping, yet afraid that even he would not have strength enough to help his lover find his confidence again.

Wufei's lips curved up in a shadow of the first real smile Zechs had seen there since the afternoon before, and he stopped fearing. "With you by my side, I will never doubt again."

Zechs tucked his head against Wufei's chest again. The mingled scents of sweat and smoke, even a little blood and now tears filled his nostrils. Wufei chuckled mirthlessly.

"We stink."

"I didn't feel like trying to figure out how to try and take a shower like this by myself last night," Zechs admitted, shrugging the splinted and bandaged shoulder stiffly.

"I'd have been a little pissed off to come home and find you unconscious in the shower," Wufei agreed. He slowly loosened his hold on Zechs, reluctantly as if he would have been happy to stay there until the end of time, body odor or not.

With an equally reluctant sigh, Zechs slowly levered himself up until he was seated on the edge of the bed. Sorrow swelled up over him, threatening to drag him down for a moment until he felt Wufei's hand upon his shoulder. Looking up, he met his lover's understanding gaze. "If you're promising not to fail them, I promise not to go all maudlin," he said softly.

Wufei shook his head once. "Honor their memory. Just don't let their memory drown you. They would not wish that."

"I'd rather drown myself in the shower, actually," he replied, allowing a note of wistfulness to creep into his voice to lighten his mood.

"I'd rather you didn't, myself."

"Then I guess you'll just have to make sure I don't," Zechs replied fondly, setting the sorrow aside, still a part of him, but apart where it would not threaten to consume him anymore.

"Such an onerous duty," Wufei replied, allowing himself to be drawn, both into the mood, and into the bathroom. Of course, the fact that Zechs was clad in nothing but his bandages probably had as much to do with that as his lover's hand pulling him along. Surely when Zechs glanced back at him, his eyes were avidly drinking in every detail of his lover's body, committing every inch to memory, though he'd done that a hundred times or more already. For the briefest of moments, a shard of guilt raised its ugly head from the pit of his gut, condemning him for feeling such strong desire for Zechs so soon after the tragedy. Stubbornly, Wufei shut that voice out, ignoring it. Just as he would not allow Zechs to feel shame for grieving for their lost friends, Wufei would not allow himself to fall prey to it for getting on with their lives.

"You're woolgathering," Zechs accused, eyeing his still fully clothed lover as steam started billowing from the glass enclosed shower.

"Just enjoying the view," Wufei contradicted, swiftly shedding his clothing, leaving it in an untidy pile on the floor. One of Zechs' brows quirked up in amusement as he watched his lover uncharacteristically walk away from the mess on the floor. "I assume," Wufei continued, "that you realize that you'll get your bandages wet and I'll have to replace them?"

Zechs managed a one shouldered shrug, smiling philosophically. "A perk of living with a former EMT."

"My license is still valid, even if I don't have occasion to use it that often," Wufei replied, following Zechs into the shower. Wufei sighed as the hot spray washed over him and instantly started loosening up muscles that felt as if they'd been replaced with iron bands weeks ago. He opened his eyes when he heard Zechs chuckling.

"You look like a cat lying in a pool of sunshine - all whiskers trembling and feline smugness," Zechs said pressing close to Wufei and wrapping his free arm around the Chinese investigator's slim hips.

"Hmm," Wufei murmured, wrapping his arms around his lover and letting his eyes drift briefly closed again. "I feel as if I could learn to be human again after a bit of this."

"Only this?" Zechs asked, disappointed. His hand slid down, stroking suggestively over one firm buttock.

"The doctor said no strenuous activity, Merquise," Wufei replied, his voice a deeply purred counterpoint to the hissing of the hot water striking the glass of the enclosure. Before Zechs had a chance to answer that, Wufei released him and pushed him back against the wall, a predatory flash in his now open eyes. "Of course, standing isn't too strenuous."

Zechs bit back a gasp as Wufei dropped to his knees and began kissing a trail down his abdomen and thighs. As his manhood began stirring, coming to life, the irreverent thought that he should have known better than to tease a dragon crossed his mind. Wufei's hands crept around to massage his thighs, nimble fingers mirroring the trail his lips were blazing. The tips of the fingers of one hand slid gently into the cleft of his ass, just barely brushing across the tight ring of muscle there. Zechs felt his breath catch in his lungs as, at the same moment, Wufei's tongue lapped a long trail down the underside of his shaft before returning to nuzzle at the soft sac of his balls. Zechs gritted his teeth; Wufei was obviously in a serious mood, to skip most of his usual preamble like this. His fingers crept up to carefully fist a handful of the damp black silk of his lover's hair. He felt Wufei's chin, the faintest scratch of stubble, rasp along the crease of his thigh and Zechs looked down to see Wufei's dark gaze greedily drinking in every second, every nuance of Zechs' surrender. That ebon regard still pinned to him, he felt Wufei's fingers dare just a little more, dip just a little deeper to press gently upon his opening. A wicked smile flitted onto Wufei's lips and stayed until the dark haired man dipped his head once again and gently drew first one orb, then the other into his mouth, carefully rolling them within their velvet sac with his tongue.

Zechs groaned, his eyes shuttering closed even as his knees threatened to give out. He felt Wufei shift to hold him up, pinning him to the wall with his shoulder before pulling his head back long enough to murmur, "Not until I'm done with you, Merquise."

Those nimble fingers were back, pressing more insistently as Wufei lapped at the tip of his cock. With little more warning than that, Zechs felt his lover engulf him in that hot mouth. The suddenness of it stole his breath for a moment, holding him in surprised, exquisite immobility until the first digit slid unerringly within him from behind. He felt Wufei's sadistic chuckle of amusement shudder through him, vibrate along his shaft, ride him like the earlier weight of his sorrow, but infinitely more pleasurable, and had to remind himself to loosen his grip on Wufei's hair before he did damage. Wufei's tongue worked at him with each stroke, moving in ways that should have been impossible, rolling along his engorged flesh like a creature with a life of its own, and those fingers worked their way deeper, deeper still until, with a shock like the first burst of sunlight on the horizon, Zechs felt Wufei hit that place within him that made the whole world dissolve into a shower of pure pleasure. And still, Wufei took him higher.

Distantly, he could feel his lover cradling his balls, then holding him steady, then massaging him again, an expert rhythm between mouth and hands that left no room for conscious thought. He felt the grating of his voice in his raw throat as the wave built itself higher and higher, threatening to collapse under its own weight, and still Wufei pushed them higher. Finally, it was too much. The heat of the water, that tongue wrapping itself around his flesh, those fingers working their way deeper, ever deeper into him, Zechs shuddered, a cry ripping itself from him as the first edge of his release rolled over him. Zechs was thankful for the wall behind him, Wufei's weight pressing into him, holding him on his feet as the world vanished in a wave of purest pleasure. He could feel Wufei's throat and mouth working to receive his release, drinking him in, as if by not letting even a single drop escape, by taking it all within himself, he could keep his lover safe, could weave a talisman to protect them both from the world beyond their walls. Could keep him forever safe and at his side.

Slowly thought returned, and the fading glow of that release left him spent, still standing only because of the wall behind him, and Wufei leaning upon him. He glanced down and saw Wufei milking the last of his own release from himself, head bowed and chest heaving as a groan broke from his clenched teeth. The sight of it made the muscles in Zechs' abdomen tighten again, and he felt an echo of his own pleasure ripple through him once more.

"Bastard," he murmured through gritted teeth. "I wanted to do that."

Wufei was silent for a moment as he remembered how to breath again, then he slowly began to chuckle. "My parents," he said quietly, "were legally married, I assure you. Besides, you'll live. You can always return the favor when your shoulder is healed."

"When my shoulder is healed, I'm tying you to the bed and having my way with you until you beg for mercy," Zechs countered swiftly, shifting so that he could slide to his knees beside Wufei and wrap his good arm around him.

"Changs do not beg," Wufei replied, eyes glittering with silent challenge.

"We shall see. We shall see."

Wufei merely snorted before leaning in to claim Zechs' mouth in a fierce kiss.

Half an hour later found them both clean and, Wufei at least, fully clothed in the kitchen. It was only 10 am, and neither felt as if they had gotten even a fraction of the sleep they needed, but neither could they settle down to sleep any more. There was still too much to do.

Wufei finished wrapping the fresh bandages around Zechs' shoulder, securing the now dry splints back into place.

"I'd like to have Trowa or Quatre double check that when we get to Maxwell's, but I think that should do," Wufei said as he tied off the last knot. Zechs tried rolling his shoulders, satisfied when he couldn't move the splinted one enough for it to hurt any more than it already did, but also didn't bind up and cut off his circulation.

"I think it's fine," he replied, tipping his head back to rest upon Wufei's firm abdomen. "Help me with my shirt, and I'll make us something to eat."

Wufei frowned, eyeing Zechs' injured shoulder and the other smaller bandages he sported with skepticism.

"I'm injured, but I'm not an invalid, Wufei. I can cook something simple while you go over your reports," Zechs growled, knowing his lover well enough to guess that Wufei was anxious to do just that before they headed over to Duo's to compare notes. "Don't treat me like a child."

Wufei's eyes narrowed, and he licked his lips suggestively. "No. No, you are most definitely not a child," he murmured. Despite himself, Zechs felt his cheeks flushing, and as Wufei smirked, cursed his European ancestry for its fair skin. "I'll get you a shirt," Wufei said, leaning over to leave a gentle kiss atop Zechs' head before vanishing down the hallway towards their bedroom.

"Bastard."

"I told you," Wufei called, "My parents were most assuredly married at the time of my conception. I believe my father still has the sheets to prove it."

"That is utterly disgusting, Wufei," Zechs replied, shaking his head as Wufei reappeared with a navy blue sweatshirt in soft cotton held in his hands.

Wufei shrugged absently; they had long ago run the discussion of his ancestors' odd familial rituals to death. He had to agree with Zechs - the old custom of displaying the wedding night sheets to prove the cementing of the union was disgusting and terribly invasive. He was just thankful that he and Meiran had been able to avoid that when- He frowned, firmly pushing thoughts of his dead wife away. Wufei liked to think that she would have approved of the half naked man sitting not five feet away from him, and he was bound and determined to enjoy every moment that he shared with his blond lover.

"You're safe from that, at least," Wufei said at last, returning to their discussion. Zechs frowned a little, guessing at where his lover's thoughts had drifted to. Rather than answering, he stood and wrapped Wufei in a one-armed hug, holding him for several long moments and just being content to be there.

"I'm making old fashioned oat meal," Zechs eventually said.

As Wufei slowly disentangled himself, he nodded. "I'll get my files set up. You can help me look over them when you're done."

Zechs grinned a little, and then turned towards the stove. Wufei forced himself to turn his back on Zechs, ignoring the odd bangs and clatter of utensils and pots as the blond man attempted to cook despite being short a limb. Wufei knew that if he watched, he'd probably blow it and try to "help" Zechs out, which would only piss the older man off. He bit his lower lip and slipped out to his truck to grab the box he'd stopped past the office to get on his way home. Setting the box on the table, he started sorting through the files and notes, tuning out the chaos behind him. Noin would probably be pissed to find that he'd ransacked all of the open case files, including all of her own cases, but Wufei had the sneaking suspicion that there was a larger pattern to be found - if only he had all the information available.

He was only halfway through sorting the various event reports out when a bowl suddenly materialized at his elbow and Zechs joined him at the table. Wufei offered him a smile of gratitude, and then continued sorting through the files, pausing now and then to snag a mouthful of breakfast. Now and then, he would pause and shove one of the files over towards Zechs, letting the older man read through it and listening to his observations. Once, as Wufei was pacing restlessly across the floor, listening to the last of Zechs' thoughts, he bypassed to the telephone and made a brief call before returning to the table.

"I don't remember there ever being this many open Arson cases before," Zechs finally said as they both stopped to stare at all the open files spread across the table.

"We've never had this many open Arson cases before. This alone," he said, holding up a stack that was obviously filled out in Noin's handwriting, "Would have been above average if split between us all. But the rest," he continued, indicating two more equal sized stacks, one in his own name, and the other signed off by Otto, "This is madness."

"How can one person be so active and not get caught? What the hell is going on?" Zechs mused, shaking his head.

Wufei frowned slightly. "Because it's not one person," he murmured thoughtfully, pieces finally falling into place now that he had finally read all of the various open case files. He took the three stacks, condensing them into one pile again. before slowly flipping through each once again and setting it into one of two piles. He finally came to the last one and his frown deepened.

"It doesn't fit," he declared in frustration.

"What doesn't?" Zechs asked. He accepted the file held out in his direction and set it down to flip through it. "Relena? I don't understand."

"These," Wufei explained, pointing to one of the two stacks, "All seem to have been set in low traffic areas. Places where few people would have been there to witness an act of arson. Relatively safe for the arsonist to set, however each fire was either designed to be a trap, cause an injury to responding personnel, or was a diversion of resources. These," Wufei continued, indicating the other pile, "All were set in areas where there would have been some witnesses. Much riskier for the arsonist. They all seem to have been set to eliminate whatever witnesses there may have been, but in such a way that the fires almost contained themselves, reducing risk to surrounding properties and responding emergency personnel."

Zechs frowned, taking the break in Wufei's explanation to skim back through the report he held.

"The fire which injured Relena was set by an incendiary explosive device in a crowded hotel. There could have potentially been witnesses, however there was no attempt made at that fire to contain it, to design it as the others were to prevent spread to other spaces that would have risked nearby people or structures. There was also no attempt made to set any sort of trap for the responding emergency personnel," Wufei explained as Zechs read. "Further, in all the fires set by the fire-safe-scene arsonist, someone was killed. Those people, in most cases, were drug addicts, prostitutes, homeless, or members of local gangs. The exceptions to that were those individuals who had been featured in the newspaper shortly before their deaths. In every case, they had been featured for breaking some sort of law."

Zechs looked up sharply, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. "A vigilante," he guessed. Wufei nodded gravely.

"I believe so. Relena, however, doesn't fit that pattern. She was neither a member of a lower class, nor featured for any illegal activities. Nor did the individual who set that fire seem to have any desire to keep the fire contained to her immediate area as the potential vigilante has."

"Could it be that whatever trap the other arsonist might have set simply didn't go off as planned? That this fire is related to the other ones?" Zechs asked, indicating the file about Relena in his hand and the other stack of reports.

Wufei frowned and thought about it hard for a few long moments. "It could be... But it just doesn't feel right. Too risky of a scene for the other arsonist. Besides, neither Noin nor I found any indications of any sort of firefighter trap in that scene, and there wasn't another event going on anywhere in the city at the time for that to have been a distraction." He shook his head. "No. As much as I hate to consider it, I think that the fire that was set for your sister was set by yet another person, one unrelated to either Arsonist A or Arsonist B. I'm not entirely certain we should even consider that one a true arsonist, in fact. I think, while he may be skilled with fire, that he only resorted to fire as an interesting way to achieve his objective."

"Achieve his objective? What objective?" Zechs asked warily.

"Killing Relena Peacecraft."

* * *

The blanket was way too heavy. And it was shivering slightly. Shivering? Wait. What the- ?

Heero's eyes popped open suddenly, arms instinctively tightening around Duo, who was still sprawled across his chest. The gear shift was digging painfully into Heero's thigh, the leather of the seat was sticking uncomfortably to the backs of Heero's bare ass and thighs, the seat had them both twisted into a painfully awkward configuration, and Duo, at least, was chilly enough in the pre-dawn cool of the garage to be shivering.

Heero smiled to himself. Life just couldn't be more perfect at that moment that it already was.

With a sigh, Heero started to shift. Besides being likely that he was overdue for waking his braided lover up, Duo needed to be in bed where he could be warm and comfortable. He couldn't resist the temptation of letting his hands wander over the bare contours of Duo's back and ass, though. It was far safer to indulge his curiosity when Duo was unconscious, apparently, than when he was awake and on a mission to stake his claim. One of Heero's hands crept up to a spot or two on his chest that still throbbed a little; there would probably be a mark there for a few days at the very least.

"Duo, wake up," Heero murmured leaning in to lick a thin trail from Duo's neck to earlobe. "It'll be more comfortable in bed. Duo shifted a little, but otherwise stubbornly clung to sleep, tucking his head a little tighter against Heero's shoulder. With a sigh, Heero began the arduous task of trying to climb out of the low slung muscle car with Duo's naked form gathered securely in his arms. For the first time, Heero actually thanked whatever powers that were listening that the Foundation had seen fit to mold him into such a powerfully built soldier. Doubtless they never considered carting about unconscious naked men as an application of that strength, but their loss was Heero's gain. Or rather Duo's, as it allowed Heero to indulge his injured lover.

Heero paused with his socked feet on the cold concrete of the garage floor, simply absorbing that thought. His lover. Despite injuries and stiffness, despite the temperate chill of the morning air and the mental chill of ominous foreboding, Heero couldn't help but smile. Duo's lover. The warmth of that thought dispelled his shivers and chased that ache in his ribs and shoulder away. With a lighter heart, and a seemingly lighter burden even, he heaved them both out of the car and kicked the door shut behind him. It took a little creative juggling and an application of certain body parts that God had probably never envisioned, let alone intended, in order to get the door into the house open without dropping Duo, but after a tense moment or two, both were safely standing in the kitchen with the garage door closed behind them. It was a measure of how often Heero had visited this house that he didn't even have to flick on any lights as he carried Duo down the hallway to his bedroom without banging into any walls or tripping over any rugs. He'd always had a good memory for floor plans, anyway, a talent, it seemed, that was standing him in as good a stead now as it did during his days in fire academy. Yet another talent his former "keepers" had probably never intended to be used in this manner, Heero pondered with a smug smirk.

* * *

The valve on his mask was gummed up, making it hard to draw in a full breath. Somewhere up ahead of him, he could hear the fire chuckle cruelly, could feel it laughing at him. Somewhere behind him, Heero was sorting out the tangle of their hose, freeing up a few more feet so they could reach the seat of the fire and kill it. Duo was getting worried, though. It felt like Heero had yelled that he was going back to free up the hose ages ago, and still he hadn't returned. He still didn't have enough slack in the line to do anything about the fire up ahead, and it was getting damn hot. He should cool the room, but he didn't know where Heero was. He didn't want to blow his partner out a door or a window if this thing steamed badly when he tried to cool it.

Where the fuck was Heero? This damn thing was going to get out of control soon, and here he was, stuck at the end of a too-short line. Like pissing in the wind, shooting from here wouldn't do much more than get him wet and annoy the Dragon.

Duo set the nozzle down and started crawling back the way they'd come, expecting to run over Heero somewhere along the way. Several long, sweaty, hot minutes later, he tumbled through a doorway into cooler darkness, and suddenly realized that he was outside, sprawled across the porch of this house. He'd never come across Heero.

Around him, guys were running this way and that, equipment slung over their shoulders, ladders, fans, saws, and uncharged hoses. None of them seemed to pay Duo any mind as he slowly picked himself up off the porch and popped out his regulator. He tipped his head back to look through the hole in his mask where the regulator usually went, the rest of his mask still being too foggy with the condensation of his own sweat and breath to see more than fuzzy, indistinct blurs in. He tried to grab one of the guys running past to ask if they'd seen Heero, but the other firefighter simply tore out of his grasp and continued on his way. Another firefighter dodged around Duo as he grabbed for him. Finally, the third time Duo tried to stop someone, he managed to hold on tight enough to get the man to stop.

"Where's Heero? Have you seen Heero?" Duo yelled, fighting down a wave of panic.

"Who?"

"Heero! Heero Yuy! He was in there on the line with me! He went back to untangle the hose, and never came back! Have you seen him?"

"Yuy? Yeah, he came to the door, grabbed the last flake of your hose, and then went back in. You must have missed him. You left your partner in there, man. What are you doing?" the other firefighter asked accusingly. With a shove, he broke free and stomped off, staring back at Duo angrily.

"Shit! Heero!"

Duo popped his regulator back in and found his hose. Dropping back to his knees, he crawled back into the black smoke that had banked down to the floor and began carefully feeling his way back to the nozzle. He kept the hose between his knees as he crawled, so that no matter what side of the hose Heero was on, Duo should practically run him down.

It was getting hot, and the smoke was glowing with the strength of the fire raging up ahead. Duo flattened himself as close to the floor as he could without coming to a complete stop, and pushed on. He was surprised when his hands hit the nozzle again. Heero wasn't there.

Heero wasn't there anywhere.

The regulator muffled his voice as he shouted for his partner. It was as if the fire was swallowing his voice as he tried to scream for Heero to find the line, to find him. It was laughing at him now. No longer content with just chuckling sinisterly, it was full throated laughing at him. The smoke pulsed in time with the voice only Duo seemed to be able to hear.

Duo snatched up the hose and opened the bale, setting loose a torrent of cool water that almost immediately converted to thousands of gallons of steam. He felt it slamming him to the floor like a huge hand, squeezing the breath out of him, pressing him down, pinning him.

He couldn't move. Where was Heero? Had he just killed his partner with that blast of steam? Why couldn't he seem to move anymore?

And still the fire laughed. He could see it now, flickering, dancing amidst the smoke, a demon of crimson lightning. It filled his vision, terrible and huge. He must be in the seat of the fire now. He still couldn't move. The smoke was too hot. His mask wasn't keeping up. Where was Heero? His mask started vibrating[1] as the low air alarm went off. Shit. He probably only had a few minutes of air left. Maybe less. Where the fuck was Heero? They had to get out of their before their tanks ran dry. Before they fried. Before It got them both.

God, he'd failed his partner. They'd both die in this inferno. The hose fell from his fingers. The smoke. It burned. The darkness vanished in an explosion of light as the room flashed over and even the smoke and what little air remained burst into flame. Everything burst into flame.[2] He was on fire. He couldn't move, and he was on fire. Heero was dead, and Duo was on fire. He'd die soon, too. At least then he would be able to find Heero. His mask sucked up against his face as he tried to draw a breath, and his tank ran dry. Out of air. Out of time.

"Duo!"

Too late, he heard Heero's voice calling him from someplace cool and safe. But it would all be over soon. No air. Too much fire. Too hot. The end would come swift now. Soon he would -

"DUO! WAKE UP!"

Duo sat bolt upright, sweat streaming from his brow, down his bare chest. Heero held him in his arms, shaking him as gently as he could. They were in bed. How did they...

"Wake up, please," Heero pleaded, voice very small and frightened like Duo had never heard him before.

" ...'m 'wake. I th'nk," Duo managed to murmur, though he wasn't sure if Heero would understand him through the slur.

Duo's head ballooned in pain as Heero suddenly crushed Duo to his chest, relived. "You were dreaming."

"A dream? Just a dream? You're here? Real?" Duo asked, ignoring his pain to run his hands over Heero's back. It was the bandages his questing fingers found that convinced him that this was probably real. If this were another dream, he wouldn't have imagined Heero in bandages. It felt... *_real_*. The... dream had felt real, too, though. It hurt to burn.

"You frightened me," Heero admitted, whispering to the nape of Duo's neck as if Duo was even too precious to look upon fully. "You were yelling and thrashing. I couldn't wake you up. I thought I'd waited too long."

"Waited too long?" Duo asked, still not really able to gather his wits about him. His head hurt too much to think about anything beyond the fact that Heero Yuy was in his bed, willingly, and they were both, theoretically, still alive.

"To wake you up. Your concussion. Do you remember?" Heero asked, finally releasing his deathgrip on Duo to check his lover's eyes for signs of Duo's head injury worsening.

It all came flooding back. The fire. The explosion. The hospital. ... the Camaro. The little devil that seemed to share a corner of his brain with him commented that it was a good thing the Camaro had a leather interior; it was easier to get stains out of leather than fabric. Crossly, Duo wondered why that little demon-voice wasn't sharing his concussion and headache along with that brain space. Fucker. Or his muscle aches from having slept in a totally unnatural position for far too long with way too many injuries. The only answer his traitorous brain gave him was a nasty little snicker.

"Duo?"

Duo blinked and shook his head to clear out the cobwebs. "Sorry. Yeah. Concussion. I r'member. The fire."

"You were dreaming about it, I think," Heero replied, shifting so that he was sitting up, leaning against the headboard with Duo still held protectively in his arms.

It was absurd, but even that simple shift in position seemed to do wonders for making Duo's head and body aches vanish. Of course, most of that was probably because Heero was finally here, not just in his room, but in his bed, naked, or at least mostly, and holding him. Everything else was secondary to that.

"No. Not that fire," he finally said. "Another one. A house. Never seen it before. No one was listening to me, and I couldn't find you. It flashed. I thought you were dead. I couldn't find you, and I figured I was gonna be joining you soon," he explained carefully, slowly so that his words didn't slur anymore. It was still vividly with him, making him shiver a little with remembered fear. The nozzle in his hands, that sick feeling of suffocation when his tank ran dry, and knowing that Heero wasn't there, was probably dead, and it was his fau-

"I'm not dead. I'm here. I'm not leaving."

"Promise?" Duo asked, turning to look up at Heero. He felt a little foolish, like a child too old to believe in the boogieman crying when something thumped in his closet or under his bed. But he had to know. He'd come too close to losing Heero before he'd ever really had him to let this chance, however small, get away without a fight.

Heero stared at him thoughtfully for a long while. Duo was afraid he'd overstepped his bounds. Finally, after what seemed like a small eternity, Heero nodded to himself and began speaking. His words were soft, but quick, as if he was plowing through something he was afraid he wouldn't get to finish, or wouldn't let himself finish unless he spoke too swiftly to stop. "I promise. In fact, if you're well enough in a couple of hours after I feed you, I'll let you drive yourself home from my apartment when I go back to get all of my stuff to move it in here."

Duo smiled, the pain in his head gone in an instant. "For that, I could be well enough to fly to the moon and back."

Heero snorted and tucked Duo's head back down against his chest. "I don't live on the moon. I only live across town."

"No. Now you live *_here_*."

Duo felt Heero's arm tighten around him. "Hai."

* * *

"Kill... my sister?"

Zechs was still staring at his lover with a look of complete disbelief and faint horror when the doorbell rang imperiously. Zechs jumped a little, surprised; Wufei merely nodded as if he'd been expecting it. Laying a comforting hand upon Zechs' shoulder as he passed, Wufei headed for the front door. Before he could get there, the doorbell sounded out again, and Zechs could almost hear the impatience in the crisp tones. After a moment, he hopped to his feet and went to join his lover at the door, until he heard the front door close again, and two pairs of footsteps crossing through the house to the kitchen. Hilde followed Wufei in, a thick manila folder clutched tightly in her hands. Wufei dropped into his seat again, clearing off a spot at the table for her and nodding towards one of the other empty chairs. Zechs sighed, thankful to be distracted from Wufei's theory by his concern for the pinched look about the female firefighter. Despite it being obvious that she had not yet slept, had probably only grudgingly let the hospital staff bandage up her head and arm, and probably had even more injuries that she'd refused treatment for just so that she could get here that much quicker, she refused the seat.

"So you've still got that friend over at the FBI, right? The profiler?" Hilde demanded rather than asked as the envelope full of papers dropped to the table with a substantial thump.

With a sigh, Wufei nodded and then reached for the envelope. "I've already spoken to her. She's agreed to meet me tomorrow for lunch."

Hilde reached out, holding the folder in place and preventing Wufei from flipping it open. "And what happens if this nut hits again today? Or tonight? In case you haven't noticed, Wufei, six guys are dead and-"

"Hilde!" Zechs growled, ice blue eyes flashing with angry fire.

"It's all right, Zechs," Wufei interrupted the potential tirade wearily. "She has the right to be angry."

"You're doing the best you can," Zechs countered, stepping up to stand behind his lover's chair and laying a protective hand upon Wufei's shoulder.

"In case you haven't noticed," Wufei replied, mimicking Hilde's words, "My best isn't good enough. She has the right to be angry. As for my associate, tomorrow was the earliest she could fit me in, and she had to juggle three cases around and hop a flight from D.C. to get here to do so," he continued, glancing up to meet Hilde's gaze. "As much as we would like it, this world does not revolve around the woes of one fire department, even if it is being stalked by a serial arsonist/killer."

Hilde dropped into the seat across the table dully, her expression stricken. "So it's true," she murmured. "Word's been going around, but I thought they were being paranoid. So do most of the guys, but Walker..."

"What about Walker?" Wufei prompted as gently as he could.

"You know Walker," Hilde temporized. "He's always been a little... over-aware. When Duo and Yuy got hurt, he started talking about a conspiracy, about someone trying to hurt firemen or something. I thought he was just paranoid as usual, because not all the weird fires have been like that. Some of the rest have actually been pretty safe for us, all things considered. Not for the people killed in them, but everything around them and stuff."

Despite the graveness of the situation, Wufei almost smiled. "Almost as if there were two arsonists at work?" he asked.

Hilde's head jerked up sharply to stare at him, and he felt Zechs' hand tighten on his shoulder.

Wufei sighed again and pulled the folder over and flipped it open, sorting through the medical reports he found there. "You should come with us when we meet the others at Maxwell's. There is much we need to discuss and compare notes on, but yes. I have come to suspect that we are dealing with two different serial arsonists now. One out to kill firemen and the other..." His voice drifted off as he let his thoughts sort themselves out.

"The other?" Hilde asked.

"I have started to suspect that the other is on some sort of demented crusade to purify the world of evil. I'm hoping my associate will be able to assist me in shedding light on his or her motives."

"Purify the world?" Hilde asked, confused and a little horrified.

"I'd rather not have to explain it all more than half a dozen times," Wufei commented a little sardonically. "The others are probably already on their way to Maxwell's now. We should leave now, ourselves, if we don't wish to be too late."

* * *

"Where do you even hide all of these? I swear they weren't here before. No manuals."

"No dice."

Duo blinked, never having heard that bit of colloquialism come from Heero before. "Did you just say, 'no dice'?"

"I did," Heero replied evenly as he dumped another pile of magazines and books into the box on the table. "How about, 'no way, José'? Nein. Nichts. Nyet. Iie. Negative. Bite me." Heero glanced over his shoulder to gauge Duo's reaction, smirking at the slightly poleaxed expression on his lover's face. "I need those, Duo. I plan on testing for officer sometime."

"That was a real sense of humor peeking out there, wasn't it?" Duo replied, grinning a little. They were both still a little punch drunk and giddy with a new sense of freedom and relief. Or at least that's what Duo was chalking it up to.

"Are you kidding? Everyone knows that I don't have a sense of humor," the Japanese firefighter replied, waving one of his drier manuals at Duo for emphasis. It was a little scary, this sense of... almost euphoria. He kept expecting to wake up back at the Foundation, this whole last few months of freedom, Fire Academy, *_Duo_* having all been a cruel hallucination whipped up by J to break him down further. Well fuck that.

Duo laughed, a little surprised. "Well then, in that case," he finally said, standing up from where he'd been sprawling on the couch in Heero's apartment, "Do I pass muster? It's almost time for everyone to be showing up at my house. One of us should be there, and you still... apparently, have stuff to pack. I can head back and clear out some space for you to dump your boxes before they get there."

Heero set the stack of books down and stepped over, peering deeply into Duo's eyes only half in jest. The braided man *_had_* just suffered a pretty nasty concussion less than 24 hours ago, after all. Duo met his gaze unflinchingly.

"I suppose. I won't be too much longer here, though. I had most of the stuff packed already."

"Yeah, I know," Duo muttered a little bit more bitterly than he'd intended.

"I was a jackass. I admit that," Heero replied, remembering that Duo had broken into his apartment not more than 72 hours earlier.

Duo sighed and leaned in to brush his lips across Heero's. "No," he replied with a self-depreciating snort, "You weren't. No more than me." He silenced Heero's automatic objection to that statement with a swift kiss. After a thoughtful pause, he broke away. "Someday, though... you'll have to tell me what you were so scared of."

Heero eyed him for a long moment before nodding curtly once. "You pass muster."

"Don't be too late. We've got a lot of stuff to figure out."

Heero nodded once more, turning back to the last of his packing. They didn't kiss before Duo slipped out the door; neither one of them trusted himself with the temptation.

"Be careful, Maxwell!" Heero yelled before his door clicked shut again. From the corridor outside his apartment, he heard Duo call back that his head felt surprisingly fine, but he would anyway.

"It's not your head I'm worried about," Heero muttered.

* * *

Wufei pulled up to the curb in front of Duo's house, nodding with satisfaction as he noticed the familiar form of a silver Stingray sliding into a spot right behind Hilde's big truck. In the driveway, Heero was just stepping out of his own truck, the motorcycle strapped into the back bed. As everyone piled out of vehicles, Heero leaned into the passenger side of his cab and pulled out a box filled with what appeared to be spare uniforms and his off duty clothing. Wufei nodded with satisfaction; it was about damned time those two faced the truth.

Subdued greetings were all that broke the silence as they headed towards the front door, everyone still tired and a little shell-shocked from the night before. They all needed more rest, more time to reaffirm bonds, more privacy with their loved ones to gird themselves for the battles to come. Unfortunately there wasn't enough time for that. Their mystery arsonists could strike again at any time, and too many people had died already.

"Duo?" Heero's quiet call broke into Wufei's musings.

Heero stood on the porch, whole body tensed for flight, head cocked to one side as he peered at the door which was cracked open a few inches. Of the braided driver, there was no sign. Inside his head, Heero thought he felt the Soldier smile with smug satisfaction.

Wufei felt his skin prickle, a chill like the one the day before when the tones went off that third time racing down his spine. The box in Yuy's arms hit the porch with a soft thud, almost lost in the sound of Heero's foot as it hit the open door and forced it fully open. As Wufei slipped through the doorway in Heero's wake, he drew his service pistol, thankful that the city had seen fit to issue its Arson Investigators weapons. He heard the others file in warily behind him, and only then noticed that a similar pistol had magically appeared in Heero's hands. Not only that, but from the confident way he was clearing each area as he passed it, he was apparently competent in its use and ready, more than ready, to pull the trigger.

With a nod, Heero indicated that Wufei should check down the hallway past the living room, while he himself went on to the kitchen to clear it. Silently, Wufei slipped down the hall, carefully clearing each room as he got to it, until he reached the empty master bedroom, bath, and walk in closet it contained. He returned to the living room where the others were waiting, hands itching for guns that none of them were carrying at that moment. Quatre stiffened suddenly, clutching at his heart and moaning softly. With a feeling of dread, Wufei continued on to the kitchen where Heero had gone. As he rounded the doorway, Wufei stopped dead in his tracks.

Heero stood, gun hanging limply at his side and shoulders slumped in utter defeat, in the center of the kitchen amidst a scattering of shards of porcelain and glass. The dish strainer was on the floor, and it appeared that it had been full of dishes when it had been pulled or flung to the floor. A couple of cabinets were open, one with its door pulled half off the hinges, and there was a large kitchen knife lying near the doorway with a splash of blood on it. In the center of the floor was a small pool of blood and the shredded remains of the bandage Wufei had remembered seeing on Duo's head the night before. Clutched in Heero's hand was a crushed Tiger Lilly, just like the ones Wufei knew that Duo grew in his front flower beds.

Of Duo, however, there was still no sign.

"I told him to be careful," Heero whispered brokenly. "I - I should have told him..."

"Yuy?" Wufei called softly, some inner sense prompting him not to step any closer to the Japanese firefighter.

As if Wufei's voice had thrown a switch within him, Heero instantly shifted. There was nothing of defeat in that body anymore, only surety, and suddenly Wufei knew that there would be blood on those hands by the setting of the sun. One moment, Heero Yuy, firefighter, friend, and human was gone, replaced by what Wufei could only describe as... as a machine. And from the expression on his face, that machine's only purpose was destruction. The eyes Yuy turned on Wufei held nothing, no emotion, no expression, not even a spark of the budding personality Wufei had seen maturing there over the last few weeks. Now they held only the promise of swift and painful death. For who or what, Wufei could not be sure of, but there was murder written in those endless blue eyes. Such a stillness descended upon Yuy that if Wufei had not known better, he would have said that Yuy wasn't even breathing any more. It was almost as if Heero had been a robot or an android only pretending at life until that moment, but now the moment was over, and it was back to being a soulless thing once more. Even from the moment Wufei had first met Heero, even when Heero had been at his most determined not to let the world affect him, stoic and isolated, he had still been human. He'd still seemed human. Those days were long gone, and whatever it was that Yuy was now... wasn't entirely sane.

He felt himself falling back a step or two, and from the stunned gasps behind him, he knew the others had as well.

"What's going on, Yuy?" he demanded, hand tightening on his gun though he knew that if Yuy took it into his head to eliminate Wufei, that not even having the gun trained on him point blank would have made a difference in the outcome. The feel of the warm steel digging into his clenched hand made Wufei feel better, though. Good enough that his voice didn't crack as he continued pressing for answers. Wufei suddenly had an image of himself poking at a very large, very angry rabid wolf, wondering how many times he could get away with pestering it before it finally snapped and turned on him. "Where's Maxwell, Yuy?"

"He's still alive. They won't bother killing him until I'm there to see it," Yuy replied matter of factly. The ocean is wet. Fire burns. They'll kill Duo, but not just yet. His hand tightened around the crushed flower, broken petals dropping to the floor.

Wufei shuddered; he could almost see, almost feel the ice filling Yuy's soul. Before he could say anything, Yuy's eyes seemed to actually focus on him, and there, deep, almost subsumed in the cold fury was a flicker of the Heero he'd been getting to know. He was furious. He was terrified. He was alive. And something, or someone, shortly would not be.

"Find the arsonist," Heero ordered quietly. "This is my fight."

"We should-" Hilde started to say before Yuy turned that dark glare on her. Heero was gone again, leaving nothing but the killer behind.

"If I lose him... I won't be back. Don't bother looking."

Before anyone could respond to that, he'd pushed past them all and had vanished out the door. Mere seconds later, they all heard the tortured scream of his motorcycle as it started up and was revved cold. By the time they reached the door, Yuy had already jumped the big bike to the pavement, not bothering with ramp and having paused only long enough to cut the expensive straps holding the bike in place with a switchblade. Steel and fiberglass ground on the pavement as 600+ pounds of street racing motorcycle hit the driveway from an almost three foot drop. The smoke that big rear tire kicked up obscured everyone's vision long enough for Yuy to vanish down the block, engine wailing into the afternoon.

* * *

End Part 27

Notes:  
[1] Vibrating SCBA Masks - Depending on the make and model of SCBA, there are a variety of Low Air Pressure alarms. I am assuming that these guys are using the standard Scott SCBA with in line PASS Device, just like the ones I am familiar with. When the air pressure drops down to the point where you have generally five to ten minutes of air left, the regulator will begin to vibrate loudly. That way you can both hear, and feel, the Low Air alarm. When that alarm goes off, you should immediately begin exiting the structure, if you have not already begun to do so. It is important to keep track of how much air you have at all times; if it took you twenty minutes to crawl to the point you are at when your mask starts to go off, you're never going to make it out before your air runs out. The further in you go, the more imperative it is that you keep track of how much air you have left, so that you always have enough to get out.

[2] Air Burning and Flashing Over - Smoke is not harmless. Smoke is a mixture of heated partially combusted material, gaseous fuel, and air. Rather than thinking of smoke as "smoke", think of smoke as a mixture of highly combustible gasses - a lot like gasoline vapor or natural gas, just waiting for the proper conditions to burst back into flame. The Flashover is a real fire condition. This is the point at which the temperature of the air and those combustible gasses present in the room has gotten so hot, that they will spontaneously ignite, all at once. EVERYTHING combustible will ignite, all at once, at that time. And yes, firefighter bunker gear *_does_* burn... it just takes a lot of heat and fire to make it do so. In a flashover, everything goes from pitch black to frigging hellfire in about half a second. Flashovers are generally non-survivable environments, even for fully geared firefighters.


End file.
